The Longsword and the Bow
by OrisounAsh
Summary: She isn't a beautiful woman, nor is she kind. Her travels lead her from one edge of the known world to the other, and she intends to continue until her feet can no longer carry her. But when a cunning old wizard asks for a dangerous favour, she can't find it in her to say no. [Kili/OC][Slow burn][Warning: violence]
1. The Rain and the Merchant

Author's Note: This is a restart of a previous work, _Rough Roads Paved with Gold_. I was very unhappy with the result of that story (it was not my best effort and I rushed to get it out) so I have reworked it. Hopefully this new approach will fare better than the last.

Please note that you will not see any of the company for two chapters, as I need to set up the plot for the OC.

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><p><em>The Rain and the Merchant:<em>

_In which a man swims in mud and a horse plays a shield_

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><p>There were brief occasions in which she has been gifted with a good day, when the roads were smooth, the skies were blissfully clear, and those she was guiding were understanding and well behaved. More so, there have been days where the roads were marred with deep puddles and fallen trees, the skies were dark and unpleasant, and the travelers were pessimistic about life in general.<p>

And then…then there were days when she found herself soaked and cold, the roads impassable, and suffering through the squawks and cries of insufferable, bratty clients she would rather truss up and leave behind on principle alone.

It was one of those days.

The skies had opened hours ago, pouring out all they had in a torrent that was as unrelenting as the chill it stirred in the air. The once rather mundane forest had turned to shadows, and the road had devolved from fairly passable to mucky sludge. Horses slipped, the wagon lost traction, and she was fairly certain, from the way he spoke, their client would perish if he felt the coach sway anymore. She had been hoping beyond hope the weather would hold out just a bit longer, until they could reach the way station. But of course, nature had other ideas. So there she sat, wrapped tight in a cloak, hood drawn, one hand held close to her chest for warmth, murmuring words of comfort to her equally miserable horse.

They had been steadily marching for two weeks, and she thanked the Valar that the small caravan's destination was only a two day's ride from the way station, though with the weather being what it was, she wasn't so certain she would be able to force the wagon and stoic riders any further without something giving – be it a wheel, a horse, or temperaments in general. They would most likely need more than a day to wait out the deluge, and it was possible they would need that time to simply dry out. Thus far, she had been able to keep most everyone in hospitable moods, their spirits only recently drowning in the steadily worsening, wretched weather.

Everyone but one.

He was some sort of merchant on his way to a town that "desperately needs his wares", which of course had made her leery and unamused, though she had taken his money all the same. His eyes had been a weasely sort, flitting around as they had spoken, their dark brown shade mixing unhealthily with the heavy circles under his eyes; she hadn't been able to tell at the time if he was tired, or in extreme poor health. It wouldn't have surprised her if it had been both. So there he was, grumbling, mumbling, and fussing about anything and everything he could, shouting out laments about the cold, about the increasingly rough road, and the state his clothing would be in by the time they arrived. It wasn't enough to grate on her, no more than to set her teeth on edge, but she could tell – without needing to look – her men were all but ready to cut loose the simpering weasel and leave him to whatever fate befell him.

But then they wouldn't receive the remaining amount owed.

So they all dug deep into some sort of resolve they reserved for orc raids and drinking games, each of her trio keeping to their posts and praying silently that their next destination would be just up ahead. There had come a point in which a rider had attempted to soothe their client, but after a lambasting of amazing proportions – and a few snickers from her group for his efforts – the young man had chosen to fall back and keep silently to himself.

They rode in that fashion for miles, her outriders keeping close tabs on the forest around them, as her own eyes checked ahead, and their charge whining more than any individual she had ever had the privilege of encountering. The bruised sky overhead was darkening the day more than the time should allow; what the sun called midday, the clouds called dusk. The rain blurred the forest edges, tricking the eye into seeing what wasn't there; more than once she found herself slowing their progress to take a second glance into the murky surroundings.

Fortune had been with them for most of the journey, but she was not friendly with "luck", nor had it ever visited her often, proven once again by their current situation. On the very rare occasion the travelling went well and the trip ran smoothly, she attributed their "good fortune" to skill and experience. Her associates – not always kind, habitually professional – were men made from long nights spent under the stars and ragged encounters with beasts from the dark. She wouldn't say she trusted them to be honest, but she would not hesitate to admit they had all been in one another's hands at some point. They were a rare sight, not Rangers, not servants, and they were excellent at what they did.

They were all three decidedly different men. Tye, youngest of the group and by far the best bowman, still held a bit marvel for the road, always excited for the next trek, and she had wondered many a time if he would ever lose that boyish enthusiasm. Carden, in stark contrast, held no curiosity for the wilds, his hunched form and constant scowl designating him the member they all attempted to speak very little to. And then there was Syloris, their expert in sword play and a master at imbibing anything containing alcohol; she had come to the conclusion he was part elf.

They were not all good men, but they worked well for coin and a decent time.

She knew the station was only an hour or so away, though the weather was skewing her estimate by some amount. With no sun to offer time of day, and no way to guess at even how much light was left in the sky, she had fallen back on her internal time, making an educated guess as to the hour. If the insufferable man they were escorting could keep himself together for just one more hour, she thought she may have the strength to ignore him in that time. If not...well, if not, there wasn't much she could do about it. He was paying her - her men - and that meant the journey would see its end with the merchant in tolerable health and his wares safely deposited at whatever storage he deemed worthy.

Her thoughts had wandered, a state of mind she chastised others for, when her eyes caught a change in the blurry view ahead. Slackening the pace, she squinted a bit to make out the hazy outlines of men-shaped objects, all lined across the dismal road some half-dozen horse lengths ahead. The light was dim at best, but the shapes appeared six in number, stretched to form a barrier that a wagon had no hope of passing through.

Thieves.

Highwaymen.

Worthless.

Her checked speed had brought up Slyloris, neither saying a word as they both scanned the area ahead. The pair's drenched and similarly glum horses were brought up alongside one another, Syloris' long leg rubbing her at the knee. The swordsman held up a gloved hand just outside his cloak, motioning "five" and "one" with his fingers. With a nod, she acknowledged his assessment, the result of which was his retreat back to his station next to the wagon. Upon taking up his position, the habitual drinker sent the same gesture to Carden beside him. Both drew their cloaks slightly away from their left, freeing up the unadorned, functional longswords at their hips. Instantly, they were soaked through and through, but they would rather be prepared than dry, knowing the little things mattered the most in such situations. The final rider, Tye, after seeing the others ready themselves, closed the gap between the pair and himself, completing the circle around the cargo and their infernal client.

She was confident in the capability of her men, which left her free to deal with the situation without the want of leadership coming up. As she rode closer, she could make out more and more of those before her, discerning from their shabby appearance and already drawn weapons that none posed any great threat. Then again, one could always get lucky - or she could be unlucky - and cause more of an issue than was already apparent. More often than not, she had seen those who are "untrained" cause quite a bit of headache and pain for those who are. And in the wilds she travelled, even the smallest of injuries could prove debilitating.

That in mind, she decided on a more tactful route, hoping to untangle the situation before any blood could be drawn.

The woman rode up to within a few feet of the man center of the group, and dismounted while one hand loosely gripped the reins; the other remained tucked under her cloak. Those men...they were harsh in appearance. Hair of varying colours was plastered over all their scowling, scruffy faces, and mixed clothing thrown together under tattered cloaks imparted the look of desperate intimidation. Their weapons, too, were old and misused, an assortment of swords and a few knives, one ax tossed in for good measure. None displayed a bow, though she didn't worry overmuch about it; her own men would find it difficult to shoot in this weather, let alone thieves who seemed about as skilled as babes.

She waited for a heartbeat before the man in the middle spoke up, his voice nasally and grating.

"T'is 'ere is a robbery."

If her mind could roll its eyes, it would. Not only were they highwaymen, they were bad at it, and for some reason that irked her all the more. Professional thieves were to the point, making their demands and issuing the threats they thought necessary to move matters along. It was painfully obvious that was not the case at hand.

Her own voice cut through the sound of thundering rain, pitched high enough to be heard over the din.

"Yes. That is apparent."

The distortion carried by the rain gave a fair cover to her voice, and to her gender; it wouldn't do anyone any good if the group in front of her suddenly pounced on the backwards assumption that she would be an easy mark. When nothing else is forthcoming, the man - who she could see had a rather impressive lack of teeth, and no small shortage of angry pimples - drew himself up and waggled a knife in her direction.

"Yer gonna give'us everthin', them horses too."

His mouth opened in a craggy smile as he reached out to touch her animal's nose, causing it to jerk its head and take an agitated step back. The pimply man's eyes narrowed, and he scowled, his watery blue eyes focusing on her. She simply shrugged and rubbed the sopping horse under the chin.

"I don't think he approves of your offer."

Before the man can comment any further, she cut into his retort.

"I want to speak to the man in charge."

The other men in the line looked slightly unsettled, shifting their eyes to a man just to her left. Satisfied with the result, she opened her mouth to continue when the festering rat in front of her raised his voice shrill, waving the dingy knife close enough to her face that she could feel it touch the edges of her hood.

"I be the man in charge! Me! So listen good cause-"

In a move that surprised everyone except herself - and to be fair, her men - the pommel of her sword abruptly impacted the man's jaw, creating a cracking noise that could be heard by all, and sending the man crumpling to the muddy earth as his gurgling screams tainted the air; he'd bitten his tongue nearly in two, and bright red streamed down his chin in impressive amounts; it wouldn't be a stretch of imagination to think of him as a dead man.

She had come to her patience limit for the ugly creature, and in what could be considered the span of a thought, she had partially drawn her own sword, using the hand that had been kept warm and dry under her cloak. The movement was swift, the sword being sheathed once again before most of the highwaymen had time to blink.

The thieves were angry.

But the man to her left simply looked down at the mewling wretch on the ground, showing no emotion other than indifference, before he turned his gaze upon her. There was intelligence in his eyes, an understanding of what was to come, should she not acquiesce to his demands. His men had begun to encroach on her rather wide personal space, and his gritty voice issued a few words to think on.

"I don't much like him either. All the same, we're taking the lot of it, including heads if we have to."

Hidden as she was behind her hood, her narrowed eyes and slight frown weren't available for the band closing in on her. Her horse was covering her right, and there was already one on the ground to her front. The one in charge…he was to her left, but flanked by only one man. The remaining three would need to get past the soaking wet, rather put-out, half-ton barrier in their way.

Perhaps she could have saved the moment, perhaps she could have diffused that entire mess, but it was at that point her overdressed client choose to make himself known.

Clambering out of the wagon, the partially bald fop floundered in the mire under the many protestations of her men. Upon hearing his baying voice, her eyes closed for a brief instant, opening when she noticed his squelching footsteps behind her. The stick thin, pompously dressed - well above his station in life, in her opinion - merchant was shouting quite animatedly at the rather astonished thieves surrounding her. He seemed ignorant to what was happening around him, as the ragtag robbers decided they might as well finish the heist with blood.

She saw the moment when violence was going to ensue, and grabbed the merchant's collar in time to haul him off his feet into the mud behind her. A sword swiped the space he had just occupied, swung with enough force to take off his head. It was then that the situation erupted, shouts coming from all directions, the screams of her client mixing with the wild utterances of the highwaymen, but above all was the pounding of hooves as Carden and Syloris streaked through the rain on horseback, swords already drawn as they bore down on the quickly scattering line of bandits.

She in turn released the eager animal beside her, not bothering to hide the small quirk of her lips as it barreled directly into an approaching thief, colliding with him and sending him ungracefully into a tangled heap. The woman unsheathed her own sword, taking a single step back to know the distance between her and the fallen merchant. The client was desperately crawling away, scraping at the muck with hands and feet, the weight of his soaked, fine clothing dragging him down as it twisted about his legs.

By the time the thieves registered what was happening, her men had taken a run through their line, opening the throat of one, while another finds his arm missing. The riders wheeled around, dismounting as she stared apathetically at the chief of the highwaymen. He had his battered sword held high, both hands gripping tight on the stained leather, and a look on his face that said he knew it wasn't going to end well.

It didn't.

He rushed her in the chaos, brunt force with no finesse, intent on bringing her down with one blow. It was readily apparent that he was untrained with the blade, using it more as a club than a true edged weapon. It was a heavy thing as well, a cheap sword that didn't require much skill, only strength. Her mind saw the wavering of his steps in the mud, saw the white-knuckle of his grip, and she knew that his attack would be faulty.

That didn't mean she needed to take the fight lightly.

He closed distance, and she allowed him to start his downward swing before her sword snapped up, the sound of ringing steel drowning in the cacophony surrounding them. She didn't attempt to stop his attack, she didn't need to put much force behind the move. Instead, the woman's body twisted as her blade caught the incoming blow and redirected it away, sending his worn weapon out and away. The move surprised the burly thief, and he brought up his sword once again, this time underhand, attempting to beat back her blade and send her stepping back. But before he could use his clearly superior strength, she waded in, a knife glinting in her free hand as it was drawn swiftly from its place at her side.

With an efficient move, she stuffed the shorter blade into his gut.

His eyes grew wide, and his hand reached down to grasp at the blade, attempting desperately to wrench it free, unable to pry her hand loose as scarlet poured from his middle. He staggered, sword lowering as he stared at her, a curse forming on his lips until she twisted the knife deeper, opening him up and spilling more than just blood to the ground.

He choked in a breath as he moved to lift his blade once more, but he was weaker, and it only took a bat of her sword to send the old steel away again. With no more time to spend on the man, she planted a knee on his waist and shoved. The highwayman stumbled backward, his body releasing her knife as he tripped over his own feet and landed in a bloodied heap. Around her she could hear the final sounds of combat, the cries of those fighting quiet now, and catching wind of her men calling out to one another. It hadn't been an epic battle, nor particularly exciting, but that was to her preference. Smart, efficient, and clean; those are the things she looked for in a fight.

The entire encounter had taken no more than a handful of heartbeats, as the thieves were anything but trained, and the surprise of her men riding them down had been enough to scatter those remaining alive. She took a cursory look around, observing the dead on the ground, and the evident unharmed nature of those in her employ. The woman cast a glance to Tye, noting he was still holding his post behind the wagon, and gave him a quick flash of her hand, advising him the situation was resolved.

Her knife, still in hand, was being washed clean by the deluge, the bright steel reflecting what little light is left. That knife and her had seen more years together than any man, horse, or clothing she could remember. The simple, slightly curved blade wasn't pretty, but it was functional, and that was all she needed; she had no need of something beautiful when she was tearing flesh, be it goblin, orc or man.

The band's leader was curled face down at her feet, holding his insides in a valiant effort to keep them inside. Some part of her decided to ignore his pain, as punishment for what he had brought on them. There was another part, however, that encouraged her to remember no living thing deserved a slow death. The sword was sheathed again, and she took a knee next to the chief; as he turned to look, she noted the pain and anger and fear in his eyes. There were more differences than not between each man, but that instance was not one of them. Every man felt fear. Every man felt anger.

Every man felt pain.

She placed a half-gloved hand on his head, gripping him to his scalp, and then snapped back his head to release him from his pain; her blade, sharp and agile, ran across his throat, leaving behind a scarlet trail that bloomed brightly in the dull light. The bare skin of her fingers mixed with the grime in his hair as she tilted back his head, pulling the wound wider and spilling more red onto his chest. The brilliant colour quickly dulled as it met with rain and stiff fabric, creating a dark stain she was careful to keep solely on him. His body suddenly relaxed, and she dropped him back to the earth, releasing her hold on him with an expression that read of distaste. Her knife was quickly made clean with a swatch of wool from the dead man's cloak, and she noticed the material was thin, barely able to keep in warmth, sporting holes in some places, patches in others.

They had owned nothing, so they stole. They had been starving, cold, and so they stole. They had been trying to survive.

They had died just the same.

Finished with an act that still brought up feelings of disgust - of the world, of herself - she sheathed the short blade and stood. There was a pause in her actions before she brusquely turned on her heel and searched for the one thing she very much wanted to have words with.

She found him still crawling his way back to the wagon, covered in filth, his lovely clothes ruined beyond recognition. Her bloodied hands took hold of his collar, and she hoisted him to his feet from behind, causing him to shout out a squeak of fright and pain. With a shove forward, she forcefully slammed the man's muddied face against the soaked side boards of the coach. He cried out again as she flipped him around, her hands fisting great swaths of his robes.

"Stop! Stop! I hired you! Don't forget who I am-"

His words were halted rather abruptly as she cracked him against the boards again, jarring his teeth and rattling his brain. The woman released one hand just enough to rip her hood back, exposing a face that was, in a word, displeased.

"In this moment, who you are means very little to me. Because if you ever cause a problem like that for me and my men again, I will dump your sniveling arse out here and leave your pasty flesh for the orc."

Having given him his first – and only – warning, she released him , walking away as he sputtered out impotent threats and staggered to the wagon interior. Ignoring the merchant - and the amused look of both the coach driver and Tye - she strode back out to the jagged line of bodies. Her men had already performed a cursory search on the dead, picking out anything of worth, and they were mounting up again, one holding the reins to her horse.

She didn't mind they appropriated whatever they found on the once-thieves, as those men were dead, and had no need of anything material. Her eyes dipped down, catching the darker stains in the puddles around them, watching as interrupted red rivulets ran from the corpses to slush together in the pounding rain. She didn't know why, but the image made her frown; she should have been accustomed to that scene, and though the death of another wasn't nearly the upsetting act it once was, there are times in which she felt...soiled. Those casualties were just more to add to a growing number, a number she thought may never stop climbing.

The dark-eyed woman dragged her wet hood back over messily bound hair, cringing slightly at the feel of more chilly water trickling down her neck. She could never escape such days, the days where someone took a misstep and suddenly the world went wrong. Her eyes were again drawn down to the sight at her feet, watching as the rain spattered up scarlet onto her boots.

"Rhegda."

There were times she had thought such a life would be exciting.

"Rhegda."

A voice that called her name from above jerked her out of her musings. With a glance up, her gaze was met by Carden on horseback as he handed down the slippery reins of her animal. The loop of leather was given over, and she tossed it over her horse's head. Not wanting to waste any more time on the dead, she mounted up in a smooth motion. Gathering up her reins and shifting her cloak around her, she tossed a short gesture to the lot of them. Without any further prompting, the coach driver whipped up his team, and her men took up their positions once more.

Her horse picked his way around the dead, and she settled in for the ride, knowing full well that problems come in threes.


	2. The Broken Mug

Author's Note: I would like to thank those of you who decided to give this work a chance, either by favouriting, following, or reviewing. You should also take a look at BlueRiverSteel's story, _When Comes the Dawn_. I am very excited to see where it goes.

It's-A-Passion: You caught me. I am having a difficult time with tenses at the moment, as I have been doing a bit of online Role Play, and we change tenses with insanity, mucking up my actual writing like mad. But thank you for pointing it out; every bit of criticism helps, and I encourage people to notify me if they see something out of place. I have also edited the first chapter to reflect your critique.

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><p><em>The Broken Mug<em>

_In which a bartender puts his foot in his mouth and a sword is won_

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><p>The rain had refused to let up in the final hour of their trip. If at all possible, it seemed to fall harder, whipping against man, horse, and wagon alike. They were all miserable, none more so than the muck-caked merchant in the coach. She had to admit the thought of him sitting in the filth of the road and his own refuse – it had been apparent that he'd soiled himself during the earlier confrontation – brought a dry smile to her chapped lips. He had paid for protection, and that was precisely what he was receiving. It was on him to act in accordance with their plan, and she knew at least Carden was thinking about dropping the merchant off at the way station and washing his hands of the man.<p>

She'd be inclined to agree, if it wasn't for the rather substantial monetary amount awaiting them at the end of their journey.

So when the weak light of a handful of lanterns could be seen through the gloom and dark, Rhegda had felt herself breathe a bit easier. It wasn't just the complaining, childish merchant they were carrying that grated on her; it was the thought that they were arriving after the sun had set on a nasty day, plunging the forest into a night that was as black as any she'd seen. Because of this, the station would be either entirely empty, without a soul to worry them, or filled to the brim with other travelers looking to escape the weather before they set out to any number of towns that dotted the area.

As she drew closer, she could see no horses tied by the front, meaning if there was a person or persons inside, they had the coin to rent a stall. Her own horse had picked up his pace, ready to be out of the wretched night and into at least a decently warm barn, and she shared the sentiment. The split story building came more into view as they drew closer, one large lantern burning valiantly as it hung from a tall post set just off the road. It was a beacon to any who needed shelter and aid, shedding what light it could over those looking to rest, if only for a moment.

Rhegda motioned for the driver to take his team nearer the building, allowing the pitiful merchant to exit the coach and make his way inside with minimal exposure; she wasn't feeling generous, just _tired_. If him staying out of the rain just a bit more helped soothe his ruffled nature, then by all means she would oblige. He came fumbling out of the coach, encased in drying mud and clothing sticking to every inch, face covered in a look of relief and fear. Without a single look to their direction, their client rushed past them, practically jogging into the building.

As the merchant scuttled to the front door, she nodded to Tye and dismounted, the older men following her lead. She didn't need to see his face to know Tye was upset by this turn of events; no one wanted to be the one to take care of the horses, especially not when they were wet, tired, and hungry. The young man dropped off his mount as well, taking up the reins from Syloris and then Carden before encouraging their animals forward, picking up her own steed's reins as he passed by. She watched for a moment as the boy trooped to the barn, four very eager horses towed along behind him, and turned to the rest of her party.

"Syloris, you do the talking."

The man simply nodded and marched to the door, shoving it open and holding the worn wood back to allow the others entrance. They all filed in, noting the brown trail that made its way past the many tables, and up the small stairway. The way station was much the same as any other, with low ceilings and sturdy furnishings, the light slightly hazy from the smoke hanging near head high, a combination of those who enjoyed a pipe, and the enormous fireplace settled on one end of the large, communal room. It had been her experience that every way station – no matter how popular – always had poor ventilation. Perhaps it was some aesthetic device that she'd never discerned.

Thankfully, there was only a sparse mix of travelers, most not bothering to look up as they entered, but her eyes found a group she immediately took a disliking to. Three sat hunched, covering their mugs almost in a protective manner, while the last - blond haired and remarkably clean - had both feet propped on the table, discussing loudly with no one in particular about his recent heroics. All but the blond sported a mish-mash of clothing and leather armor, swords at their hips and at least seven knives she could see between them.

Those were not men prone to "heroics".

The three darker-hued men looked pained at his antics, but they said nothing; it was evident they answered to the blond man for some reason or another. They had the air of men not afraid to do dirty things, even if it was only for the pleasure of it; they were not men she wanted to clash with, though from the look of them, they seemed more comfortable drinking than causing a confrontation.

The blond, however, gave the appearance that he could cause a great deal of commotion. He was most surely drunk, his eyes sparkling in the dim light as he waved his mug about in wild gestures, losing largely what he should have been drinking. She made a point to keep an eye on him during their stay; it would do them no good if they lost their cargo and merchant two days before their projected arrival.

Her attention turned back to Syloris as he tossed back his hood, revealing extraordinarily elegant, raven hair and sparkling green eyes. She could never fathom how he managed to keep his hair so…immaculate on the road. The swordsman tracked down the proprietor behind the u-shaped bar that dominated the room, ambling up with his most pleasant, amiable smile and full charm. Trusting him to say the right things – although she distinctly remembered the mishap involving a live chicken, two ladies' corsets, and a dwarf – Rhegda unclasped her cloak, sliding the heavy, saturated material from her body, feeling the instant bombardment of dry heat from the room. Carden, too, pulled his from stooped, broad shoulders, not caring in the least that both of their cloaks were causing small puddles to form around their feet.

She ran a hand through her tangled hair, pulling free the leather thong that had been all but useless in its mission to keep her own ebony locks away from her face. Her ears were tuned to Syloris and his quest to procure rooms and stalls, noting with some relief that the owner was willing to give them what they needed for fair price. Her black-haired rider threw what coin was required on the bar, smiling all the while and motioning to them both. Moving from her place beside the door, Rhegda brushed past tables and the odd guest, almost making it beyond the bar before the proprietor let out a stuttering shout.

"Oi! You didn't tell me there's a _woman_ with you."

He looked both angry and shocked at this revelation, eyes wide but mouth set in a firm line; she had no doubt the colour of her skin had something to do with it. One hand raised to point at Syloris, who had the good sense to look confused.

"You asked for two rooms. _Two_. She plannin' on stayin' with one of you?"

Rhegda bit back a retort that could make the situation worse as Syloris immediately jumped in, silver tongue quick as ever.

"Yes, of course. Her husband is just in the barn."

Her eyes jumped in exasperation to the green eyed swordsman and he made a slight gesture with his hand, telling her to let him handle it. She was inclined to agree, as her diplomacy skills with people still hiding behind decorum were more than lacking. But the aghast bartender couldn't get out his next question before another slurred voice enters the no longer private conversation.

"Ah woman. S'that so?"

She didn't need to turn around to know who had spoken. A chair scraped the wood floor as the blond stood up, his mug held loosely and his eyes dancing dangerously. His wobbling footsteps approached, and from the slight shift of both Carden and Syloris, he was coming straight for her. The proprietor switched his attention to the new entry to their little party, glaring at the man and jerking his thumb in the direction of the stairs.

"Take your arse upstairs and sleep it off."

It surprised her that the bartender would step in, his voice stern and unwavering in an act she wasn't expecting. But the words did nothing to keep the blond away. He stopped just shy of her, free hand reaching up to play with the ends of her hair. Not satisfied with only her hair, the sloshed man skimmed his hand over her shoulder, then much lower, fingers spanning the area just above a more intimate area. Once upon a time, such a touch would have brought a sickening crawl to her skin, and a rather nauseous feeling to her stomach.

But not anymore.

Rhegda made no move to stop him, no act of retaliation to encourage him; if nothing else, she'd learned over the years that presenting a "hard to get" persona to men like that only brought on more complications. That didn't mean, however, that she didn't have other methods of ridding herself of filth, the likes of which stood behind her. The blond smiled haphazardly, his hand caressing lower; there was a blatant message in his act, which wouldn't have gone amiss, even without his forthcoming slurred words.

"You got's two men t'bed. I'm shhhure you wouldn' mind 'nother."

Both of her men had taken a subtle step back, giving them room to draw swords should the situation come to blows. It wouldn't, at least not of steel on steel. Rhegda gently shifted her cloak to her left arm, opening her mouth to speak when the youngest of her group came in from the cold.

He looked to the blond, looked to her, then back to the blond.

"Get away from her!"

Welp, that was it. The boy drew his sword, rushing forward and failing to notice the blond's cohorts as they stood and freed their own blades, immediately coming to the aid of their leader. Syloris did very little besides extracting his sword, and Carden drew two long knives from somewhere on his person; Carden looked peeved and Syloris seemed bored. The three rushing men would present a bit of trouble for the pair – being in close quarters, and with eight individuals in play – but she wasn't worried in the least for their safety. However, Tye had blinders on, oblivious to the danger he was wading into.

The blond was readying himself to draw his weapon, dropping his mug and reaching for his sword when two things happened: his nose sprouted blood and his sword was appropriated. Rhegda had thrown her right elbow behind her, catching the man in the face and splintering the bridge of his nose with an audible _crack_. Her left hand had dropped the sodden cloak and settled around the hilt of his sword. With a step forward, she had half turned and unsheathed the blade, before taking another step to finish the rotation and face him.

He could see through watering eyes that his sword was pressed against his chest.

His men halted their charge upon seeing this, glancing between one another with questioning looks. Tye, too, had come to an abrupt stop, lowering his sword with confusion written on his boyish face. Patrons throughout the immediate area had either pulled back, leaving their chairs and taking up spaces much farther away, or remained in their seats, as a brawl was nothing new to them in such a place. But the only one in the incredibly silent room to talk was the blond, who was holding his nose and sputtering incoherently.

"Bew bith! Bew bwoke by nose! _Kill ber_!"

He continued in this manner for some time before Rhegda looked past him, catching the eye of one of his men. The fellow seemed almost grateful that nothing more had transpired, and he – without prompting – sheathed his sword. Very soon after his partners did the same, looking relieved that the confrontation had ended with nothing more than a broken nose, though it did seem they were secretly pleased the blond was jabbering through the sting she had given him. They also seemed wary of her, and she knew why; it wasn't her way with a sword, or her manner. It was the brown of her skin, and the darkness of her eyes that gave them pause. Subtle differences that made many rethink their actions towards her.

Turning her attention back to the bleeding man in front of her, Rhegda prodded him slightly with his own blade. The action brought a halt to his endless flow of words, and he attempted to focus on her through the tears and squinted eyes.

"You are upsettingly rude. I would like you to apologize."

She didn't smile, made no attempt to look as though this was a joke. Her black gaze was flat, and there was an air about her that told the blond she took no issue with splitting him open on the spot. He looked recalcitrant and livid, about to open his mouth to say something else _rude_ when her booted foot snapped out and struck his left knee. The bone instantly gave way, breaking with immense pain as the blond crumpled to his remaining good knee, crying out and clutching impotently at his leg. His surprisingly elegant sword was brought to his neck, the pressure not yet enough to break skin.

Rhegda's eyes darted to his cohorts, silently pleased that neither had moved; of course that might have had something to do with the fact that her men still had weapons drawn. Her sight moved back to the blond, watching him for a moment as he bled and blubbered. She slid the blade against his skin, enough to let him know there was intent behind it. He stuttered and was unable to look up at her; that is, until she brought the tip of his handsome sword to his jaw, encouraging him to lift his head.

The blond's teary eyes finally met hers, and he no longer had the look of a unruly child. Instead, he seemed cracked somewhere inside, as though she had broken a part of his will. She added pressure to his jaw, bringing a bead of red to the surface of his skin, and her face gave the impression he should rethink his previous reaction.

Blood caking on his face, he choked down a breath and forced out a response.

"Ahm sobwy."

Rhegda's gaze fell to the floor, taking in the sight of the broken mug, before returning to the blond's wavering scrutiny.

"You broke a mug. I think you should apologize to this man as well."

She pointed behind her, indicating the proprietor. The heavier-set, older man looked on in slight shock at her words, mouth hanging open and his eyes moving from her to the ruined blond on the floor. Neither Carden nor Syloris showed any indication that this was something out of the ordinary; Tye looked on in confusion and slight fascination.

That time, there was no hesitation in the injured man's reaction as he spoke through blood and broken cartilage.

"Ahm sawby by bwoke bour mub."

Rhegda proceeded to drop to the balls of her feet, placing her eye level to the pitiful, whimpering creature as he clutched his leg and blubbered. His sword was standing beside her, and one of her arms was draped lazily over the cross-piece, creating an image that she was comforting a small child.

"Remember that a _woman_ did this to you."

His eyes widened slightly, tears falling over his cheeks as he nodded, and she knew he would never be the same. She stood fully, casting a look to the other members of the blond's group, giving them leave to pick him up. Her own men sheathed their blades, Carden turning to march up the stairs to their room with a huff and a few choice words muttered under his breath. Syloris watched the group struggle up the stairs after Carden, two men hauling the blond up by his arms and ignoring the shouts of agony he gave every stair. The third followed shortly after, but not before he turned to catch Syloris' eye, a curt nod telling the raven-haired man there was no intent of retaliation.

The eloquent swordsman gestured back, then turned to see Rhegda just as she put a fist to Tye's jaw. The boy tumbled into a table, rocking it with the force of his fall. His face was contorted from pain and bewilderment, and he flinched back as she approached him, her near-black eyes sparking with anger in the muted light. The woman stopped when she was nose to nose with the young man, one of her hands gripping his collar. His lower lip was split, but he made no move to check it as Rhegda spoke in a tone he knew she reserved for people she very much didn't like.

"You pull a stunt like that a second time, and I will make certain you never enjoy the company of a woman again."

Releasing him, she turned round to find Syloris watching with a slight smile, the scene one he had witnessed before, though not yet with Tye; it was difficult to keep a fourth member around when their leader was so...demanding. He was fairly certain the kid wasn't going anywhere, though. The hero worship was strong in that one.

Rhegda scowled at the swordsman, causing him to hold up his hands in a placating manner and removing himself from the situation by heading up to the rooms. Tye, however, remained rooted to the floor, unable to process what had happened; she knew he had been trying to protect her, but he was foolish and impetuous, neither things she had time for.

She returned to the bar, hefting the blond's sword before handing it over to the proprietor. The man stared at it a moment, then held out his shaking hands to take it off hers. He looked as though he wanted to say something, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. He knew he'd started the mess, that he shouldn't have opened his mouth, but the _woman_ had ended it before he could react.

Having sought after a few coins in a modest pouch on her belt, she tossed them on the counter during the bartender's moment of silence. His eyes dipped down at the sound of metal clinking against the aged wood surface, and then they met her gaze, still unable to react to what happened; he'd seen some violence in his time, but nothing so unforgiving and quick.

"For the mug. And any trouble caused."

She nicked her cloak off the floor, and was about to turn away when she heard Tye's voice behind her. It wavered and almost cracked, but he got the words out, regardless.

"Rhegda, I'm sorry."

The woman didn't acknowledge the apology, instead choosing to walk away from the mess altogether. But it was then that the owner found his voice, clearing his throat as he called to her.

"Rhegda?"

With a sigh, she turned back around, left hand resting lazily on her sword's hilt as she awaited the proprietor to continue. The man seemed hesitant for a moment before he stowed the blond's sword behind the counter, retrieving a folded, leather-bound journeyman's packet from under the bar. He handed it out to her, swallowing slightly before continuing.

"I was told to give this to a Rhegda. Didn't know who that were, or that…it would be a woman."

With one eyebrow raised, she stepped forward to take the proffered item, noting how the owner seemed grateful to have turned it over without any fuss. The woman felt of the leather's weight for a second, then turned her attention to the man behind the bar.

"Who gave you this?"

There were some small amount of possibilities – very few knew where she would be and when – and that fact sent her mind working quick. But as she sifted through the names of those she could imagine pulling off such a stunt, the proprietor answered.

"A man in grey. Tall he was, with a wooden staff. He told me you'd be comin' this way."

Rhegda's eyes closed in irritation, and she released a slow, composed breath. That man…_damn him_. He always knew,_ always knew_; where she would be, _when_ she would be there. She wouldn't be surprised in the least if he knew who she was travelling with. Her eyes opened again, and her fingers found the tie strap keeping the small, dark brown packet closed; it was undoubtedly like him to be prepared like that, knowing a simple parchment letter would most likely be ruined before she could arrive to retrieve it.

Unfolding the supple leather, her eyes lit on some half-dozen sentences curving across pale parchment in his scrawling hand. The more she read, the less pleased she appeared, and by the time she finished, there was a scowl on her face. Of course, trouble always came in threes. At that point, Tye had finally extricated himself from his place between two tumbled chairs, and he approached her carefully, not knowing what exactly the situation was about, but knowing she didn't look at all pleased about it.

Rhegda folded the letter and leather back to its original state, wrapping the strap back around it as she turned to make her way up the stairs. Unable to hold back his curiosity, Tye strode after her, asking a question to her back, knowing full well he might be in for another rough cuff.

"What does it say?"

Without a pause in her step, the woman remarkably answered.

"It says a debt is being called in."

She continued on, disappearing after the curve of the landing, leaving Tye to wonder who, exactly, could have made his leader willing to act on nothing but a brief note, left in a waystation on the edges of practically nowhere.


	3. The Surly Lady and the Golden Sword

Author's Note: Yes, I said there was going to be a certain dwarf in the story by now, but I needed a connecting chapter or else a time skip of epic proportions would have happened, and I hate those. But don't despair, I can assure you he will be in the next chapter (which is nearly finished as we speak).

And thank you again to all you wonderful followers and reviewers.

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><p><em>The Surly Lady and the Golden Sword<em>

_In which a tale is told and a boy learns to look past the obvious_

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><p>The skies were clear, not a cloud to be seen. The sun baked them to a warmth enough that their tired muscles felt relaxed and loose, and not a single one of them was wanting for food or water.<p>

But for the life of him, Tye couldn't reason out why she was in such a foul mood.

Once they'd dropped off the merchant – mostly intact and slightly terrified of their leader – and picked up their pay, Rhegda had made the announcement that she would be riding for a new destination, and would most likely not return any time soon. Of course, the youngest of their band had protested slightly in his own way: he pouted. Well and truly _pouted_. Rhegda had almost lost it with him again until Syloris, charmer that he was, had stepped in to smooth things over. He had suggested they all ride with her, using the opportunity to pick out a new client or two in a more hospitable climate, and maybe take in some new scenery.

She hadn't said yes, but she hadn't objected when they'd all departed with her.

So all four were trekking along a well-traveled road, sun warming their backs, and good nature filling them for the first time in a while. Well, except for Rhegda. And that was something that Tye couldn't understand. If she was riding to repay a debt, did that mean there would be something terrible asked of her? What if she would be required to be subservient, or even worse…a _lady_?

He wanted to ask her, of course, but he had the distinct impression asking her something like that would lead to another fist in his face. Even Carden was in a better mood, his face not scowling near the point it usually did, which did nothing to aid in his uncovering of the reason why their leader seemed so miffed.

Syloris, who'd been humming some elegant tune until that point, took notice of the perturbed look painted all over the boy's face. It didn't take an intellect larger than a child's to see why their bowman was do deep in thought, ignoring practically all that was surrounding him. Smiling to himself, the resident alcoholic cleared his throat and allowed his agreeable voice to interrupt the enjoyable silence.

"Did anyone ever tell you of the Trevel orc incident?"

Tye's head whipped around as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, eyes darting from Syloris to Carden, taking note that Carden appeared practically asleep. He tempted a glance to Rhegda just ahead of them, but she didn't seem to either hear them, or care.

Naturally, she heard them.

She knew exactly what Syloris was up to, and though his topic of choice was…regrettable, if it kept the boy from falling off his horse from his apparent disturbing distraction, then she didn't particularly care. They were only a half day from her destination, and while the temperature was more amenable and the company at least bearable, she found herself surly and irritated. What was hinted at in the letter left to her formed a frown on her tanned face, and she didn't like the feeling; she might not have been the most jovial of persons, but at least she could smile a time or two. It seemed though that her lips had been carried down, and they weren't raising any time soon.

Rhegda's attention was brought back to her men as Tye eventually, hesitantly spoke up.

"No…"

Syloris broke into a wide grin, his eyes flitting to their leader before continuing.

"Then you are in for a spectacular tale."

When the boy's eyes lit up, the swordsman knew he had a good audience. He cut a glance to Carden, but it seemed the man was well and truly asleep. Satisfied with having at least one set of ears to tug, Syloris continued.

"A long time ago, there was a traveler caught in the most ferocious snowstorm conceived by the Valar above. White was the world, snow blanketing anything it touched, and ice forming on even the breaths of men. It is said the streams froze so quickly the fish were flawlessly preserved, and that they thawed out perfectly when the weather cleared."

Tye looked skeptical, but he was still listening, so the raven-haired rider continued.

"Now, our humble traveler had grown tired and weak, slow from the pain of cold limbs and drifts of snow so great they could have covered an entire house. So, this traveler, seeking any respite from the storm, discovered the opening to a craggy cave just off the nearly impassable road. Well, that seemed about perfect, but as the traveler grew closer, they could see a light escaping the cave's nearly snowed-in entrance."

Syloris shook his head, making a motion of "what can you do?" with his hand, noting slyly that the kid was paying very close attention.

"So what was the traveler to do? They were most certainly going to die if they stayed in the cold, but what type of creature inhabited the cave? Friend? Foe? They had no way to know. But with no alternative, the traveler floundered through the snow banks, reaching the entrance of the cave just as a voice drifted above the sound of whipping wind."

With a suddenly very serious face, Syloris leaned over to Tye, speaking softly.

"It was _black speech_. Nasty stuff."

He righted himself, nodding once before continuing.

"Orcs. Treacherous, despicable, vile things they were too. The traveler dared to peer inside, and saw _twelve_. Twelve murderous creatures marred with scars and boils and oozing places that brought a dreadful stench to the cave. Well unquestionably, that was a rather terrible turn of events for our traveler. But though there were many, remaining in the frigid cold would most certainly kill the traveler, and that had to be taken into account. However…"

The swordsman looked around, as though he were about to tell a great secret, prompting the bowman to mirror the act, glancing around as well. In a lowered voice, he resumes.

"What the orcs didn't know was that our traveler was a master with the blade, and deadly with a knife. They were so skilled that none had ever survived an encounter with them, not a single one. They fought in a cold fury, wielding their blade with such ferocious might that they would routinely take off heads and arms in one fell act, bifurcating bodies with ease. They were _that good._"

Syloris cleared his throat slightly, voice returning to normal pitch.

"Our traveler pondered for a moment, weighing their options, as surely twelve ferocious orc would give anyone pause. But the traveler decided they would rather perish in a fight than freeze in the cold. So, they loosed the ruby encrusted, golden sword from their belt –"

"Last time you told it, the sword was silver and the gems were emeralds."

Rolling his eyes with an exasperated huff, Syloris turned to look at Carden, who had unarguably spoken, but had fallen back to the look of a man completely asleep. Waving his hand in the other man's direction, the swordsman retorted.

"I had it wrong then. _This_ is the _true_ telling."

Tye seemed a bit confused by that point, but refrained from weighing in as Syloris returned his attention to the bowman.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. The traveler freed their ruby and gold sword from their belt, holding it up along the stone wall the road had been carved into. You see, by now, the sword was frozen to its sheath, incapable of being drawn. But again, the traveler was ready. They drew back, and then cracked the hilt on the dark stone."

The alcoholic outrider flapped his hands about, indicating some sort of ruckus. His horse did not seem amused.

"_Clangcrack_! The sword rebounded off the wall, leaving behind the sharp sound of steel…_golden_ metal on the rocky face of the wall. Instantly, the terrible orcs were on their feet, shouting as they gathered what filthy weapons they could, a few peeking out of the cave, interested enough in what had made the sound to risk injury."

Now, Syloris decided to pour on the majestic feats by the cart load.

"And what should happen? Their heads! Snicker-snack went the traveler's sword and off came three orc heads, which was indubitably most fortunate for the traveler. Down rolled the heads to the feet of the remaining nine, enraging their leader. In that most foul of tongues, he ordered them all out in to the snow, intent on rending apart the thing that had spilt orcish blood."

Taking a heartbeat before continuing, the swordsman waggles a finger to no one in particular.

"But wouldn't you know it? Our traveler was ready and waiting, just itching to get at that last orc head. However, as they all piled out into the snow, the traveler was nowhere to be found. The orcs' vision was limited in all the flurrying snow, so they were caught entirely unawares as a figure rushed out of the white, slicing and shredding and cutting and killing. Black blood stained the perfect snow, and bodies lay forgotten near the cave. The traveler would leave none alive, and so skilled were they that not a single one of those wretched creatures would see the day again."

The story was engrossing to Tye, and it didn't take a masterful mind to know it; he sat rapt on his horse, drinking in every word. Silently pleased with himself, Syloris continued to weave his tale.

"But there was one, only one, that dared to stand against the traveler. It was larger than the rest, with a hulking brow and a sword of black iron. Dark was its armor, stained with the blood of its enemies, and a fetid stench brewed from its mouth. It shouted obscenities and threats, circling the traveler with evil intent. Of course, the traveler did the same, and as they danced in the snow, all time seemed to stop. Not a sound caught their ears other than their breathing. No sight could they see other than their opponent. So when the moment came…DEATH!"

After barking the word almost to the top of his lungs, the swordsman had a difficult time not laughing at the poor boy beside him. His eyes had grown wide, and he'd jumped enough to startle his meandering horse.

"Yes, _death_. For you see, the traveler had read all of the orcs movements, and knew each and every one of its attacks, before it had just a single opportunity to swing its sword. The traveler stopped it in its tracks when they lopped off an arm, then brought it to its knees when they hewed off a leg. And finally…with one strike…the traveler took off its gruesome head, the golden sword so keen that it looked as though the beast's head would never fall. But the traveler, knowing the thing was dead, wasted no more time on it, sheathing their sword and marching to the cave."

Syloris waved his hand through the air once or twice.

"Of course, it _did_ fall, but that was only days later, when the weather warmed enough for the body to topple, but by then, the traveler was nowhere to be found."

He shrugged, then straightened, as if to work out a kink in his back.

"To this day, there are tales of a wandering traveler in Treval, one who can kill orcs by the dozen, yet leave no trace of themselves behind."

Tye blinked once, then twice, his mind turning over rapidly as he made an attempt to discern what had been real, and what had been pure fiction. He was having difficulty sorting it out when Syloris broke out into a wide grin, the kind that said he wasn't finished with his lively moment.

"Say Rhegda, would you consider that a fair telling?"

The young bowman jerked his head around, staring at the back of their leader's head for some time. That tale, was it her? Was she actually the masterful traveler? Could she really kill twelve orc on her own? His mouth opened and closed for a second before Rhegda's voice came drifting back to them.

"Aside from the fact there were only _three_ orc, the cave was a wayward pine, and it was the middle of spring…yes, I would consider that a fair telling."

Syloris continued to smile, while Tye looked all the more confused, though he was overjoyed she had spoken up for the first time in miles. And her voice seemed lighter than it had been, a little less grim. He was about to question the golden sword when Rhegda turned in her saddle, glaring teasingly at her alcoholic swordsman.

"And I _never_ flounder."


	4. The Elves and a Dinner Party: Part I

Author's Note: I promised Kili, but as I was writing this chapter, it grew longer and longer and I had to cut it somewhere. So I am nearly completed with the second half of this, which means there will be a lot more Kili. I promise promise promise. Also, I would have translated spoken words to Sindarin if 1) there wasn't so much of it and 2) I had the time at work to look it up. So sorry to those who prefer actual Sindarin.

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><p><em>The Elves and a Dinner Party: Part I<em>

_In which we see dwarves refusing to eat lettuce and a king set in his place_

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><p>Rivendell had always been a place of contrasts to her. A thing of beauty, it stood as testament to the marvels of the Elves; a thing of stagnation, it rose as a beacon to the forever unchanging nature of its inhabitants. It wasn't that she disliked the Elves; on the contrary, she was rather fond of them, regardless of their occasional elitist natures and entitled mindsets.<p>

The excursion hadn't been a long one, nor a particularly taxing one, but somehow she felt tired, old. She'd never thought her real age would matter much in the scheme of things, and for once, she'd been right. It wasn't how old you _are_; it was how old you _feel_. And for the moment, she felt the weight of a hundred years resting on her shoulders. It wasn't as though she actively searched out highwaymen, orcs, goblins, wargs, the occasional small child – those were especially dangerous – but more the fact that they always seemed to _find her_. Granted, the life she led put her into situations that she might fall upon those foul creatures – children included – more often than not, but she always assumed it was just part and parcel of the job.

She thought now that it was just her.

All three of her men had gone quiet once they reached the pathway that would lead them into a part of the city more accommodating to weary travelers on horseback; she had no intention of crossing that narrow stone bridge _ever_ again. Once had been enough.

Tye especially had been silent for some time as they traversed the woods, his mind tumbling over the fact that he would be going to _Rivendell_, a place he'd only heard about, and never dreamed he'd ever set foot in. It seemed to him Rhegda was even more of a mystery, as he felt there were so many more secrets that no one would never know the truth of. Syloris had continued with his tales after the first widely-accepted-as-mostly-fictitious legend had gone over so well, and each story left him wondering if _she_ was part of them. There were tales of great deeds done by men, heroic stories that left Tye wishing for much more than just a small role amongst those who were so accomplished.

Well, maybe not Carden.

The group had journeyed on for miles until an opening in the wood appeared, the marker to their destination. Without hesitation, she'd ridden past the single, carved stone pillar set at the final edge of the wood. Opening up before them had been a wondrous sight, a sight that though she may think common now, would never cease to lighten her troubles, if only for a moment.

Great swaths of green and gold unfolded beneath a sky hung with the pastel glow of a setting sun. Everything was awash with the peaceful light, warmth enfolding them and melting any chill that may have lingered, and banishing temporarily whatever burdens they had been carrying.

Smooth stone and wood surrounded them, structures built with such precision that one would be hard pressed to find even a minuscule seam between joined materials. The city flowed out from the circular platform they stood on, following the natural curves and edges of the valley. Beautiful had always seemed so…plain a word to describe such a sight, but it was all she could ever find to fit the scene.

Over it all, however, was the slight moisture in the air, and the pounding of innumerable waterfalls as they tumbled over the ridge to the valleys below, and if nothing else, that feeling of standing over so much tremendous power gave her a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.

Already there were two elves, dark haired, dignified and smooth, waiting to take their horses; it would not surprise her in the least to find out that they had been standing there before the group ever entered the hills above Imladris. Very little occurred in that realm without a particular someone knowing, and she had the distinct feeling she was going to hear exactly what he knew in very little time.

Rhegda dismounted with stiffness in her back, holding back a grimace as her feet hit the ground; she had always preferred walking to riding, as horses gave her a kink in her back and sore knees, but it had been the quickest way to reach – most – of their destinations. Syloris and Carden followed suit, swinging off their mounts and pulling down essentials off their packs. Tye, however, was still staring at both the scenery and the two tall, elegant individuals in front of him.

As she untied one of her bags from the saddle, the woman sighed and snapped the boy back to the current time.

"Tye! Get off your horse and get what you need."

At her raised voice, the archer jumped in the saddle, startled from his reverie and embarrassment written across his face. Scrambling down, he immediately goes to search through his packs, suddenly lost as to what was "essential". His fingers were fumbling, and he couldn't remember being this nervous in all his life, though his head was telling him to relax, and something else was lapping against his heart like a gentle wave; it told him he was _safe_. Tye's eyes darted to the elves for a moment, drinking in how…serene they appeared in tunics that seemed to glow in the light, and feeling a bit better for it. His fingers finally found what was needed, and he stepped away from his horse in time for one of the elves to take the reins without a word, already holding those to Syloris' mount. Not questioning the act, he handed them over, watching in slight confusion as the two elves and four horses seemed to disappear back down the way they'd come.

It was then that a lilting voice, speaking the most lovely language he'd ever heard, interrupted his musings.

"Welcome, Rhedga, friend."

Tye turns to see another dark haired elf making his way softly down a near flight of stairs, but instead of perfectly tailored tunic and breeches, he was dressed in richly coloured robes that flowed around him with every move, fascinating the bowman immediately. The sight didn't appear to phase their leader, however. She gave a small bow, which Carden and Syloris repeated; the boy seemed oblivious as to what he should be doing. Ignoring for the moment her youngest partner, Rhegda gave a tired, yet genuine smile.

"Well met, Lindir. I apologize for our unannounced arrival."

Surprisingly, the same flowing words slip from her lips, refined and softly enunciated. The language coming from his leader shocked Tye; he'd never known she could speak it, let alone so fluidly. Syloris and Carden, on the other hand, appeared nonplussed by the events unfolding, both staying silent; Syloris was interested in the conversation, and Carden stood as bored as usual.

The auburn elf gave a small, gentle smile at her words.

"Mithrandir has told us of your coming, and we have been expecting you. All of you."

With a huff, Rhedga slung her pack over her shoulder, muttering a "of course he did" under her breath in Westron, before glancing back to her men. They were all ready to eat, to rest, and she didn't blame them; the trip hadn't been a taxing one, but it had been long, and she was fairly certain they had been hunted at one point. Setting her attention back to their greeter, she was about to speak when he gently interjected in the common tongue.

"If you would, follow me. We have rooms ready for you, and a meal is already underway, which your presence has been requested for."

He motioned out with his arm, encouraging them to follow, and started back up the stairs in the sort of unassuming grace inherent in his race. Shifting the weight of her load, Rhegda trekked up behind him, motioning for her men to follow along.

No one spoke as they wound through perfectly groomed gardens and architecture that mirrored the exemplar nature of the land surrounding them, all preferring to keep their mouths closed and their eyes as open as possible. Even Carden had taken to looking about, drinking in a sight he had never – and would most likely never again – seen, his attention drown more to the scenery than any elf they passed.

Syloris, however, was drinking in those they _met_.

All marvelous, elegant, and fair, the inhabitants greeted them with half nods or a subtle smile, regardless of the fact that the lot of them were dirty, ragged, and most certainly smelled. That fact didn't stop her swordsman from flashing a broad, devilish grin at any female they encountered, and though she knew it wasn't a bother to them, she wished he could keep his charms to himself for once.

Lindir escorted them to a series of rooms, all furnished with downy beds and wash basins, with a large, centralized bath that steamed invitingly. Immediately, Carden and Syloris picked a room and tossed their things to their new beds, and both began to strip free of the grim-covered leathers and fabrics they wore. Food was on their minds, but a bath...that was a rare thing indeed. Tye, however, had remained by her side, unmoving as he stared around him. She casts a look to him, encouraging him to choose a room as she settled her own bags in the nearest available. Her sword was unfastened from her hip, and her knives were unsheathed, everything ending up on the bed in neat order.

By the time she was finished, both her swordsman and Carden were in the bath, while Tye was waiting with Lindir. The boy looked slightly lost and certainly out of his depth, but she couldn't blame him; Rivendell was a lot to take in, particularly for someone who still had wonderlust for life. She had no doubt her other men would be fed, probably just after they exited the bath, but she needed to speak to a certain wizard, so bathing for her could wait. Rhegda had the feeling, though, that Tye would be attached to her hip unless she could think of a way to shoo him off without overloading him with elves.

Nodding to Lindir, she followed the elf further into the city, and it wasn't long before her ears pricked at the sound of loud voices and grumbling that was definitely not elvish in nature. The three of them rounded a corner and were greeted with the sight of a dozen dwarves all sitting round a table and looking more out of place than a babe in tavern.

Dwarves.

_Dwarves_.

Twelve of them, no less. And they all appeared to be travelers, rough as they were, though she could pick out a fighter or two in the mix. It made no sense to her as to why there should be so many partaking in supper with the lordly elves of Imladris, but she had a small notion that it had something to do with that damned wizard's note.

They passed up the table, garnering no small amount of looks from those complaining about the food, and she caught a snippet or two of insults sniped their way; she had a fairly decent guess as to why. Their attentions were far from unsettling, and it wouldn't surprise her to know one or more of them had felt slighted by Men in the past, and held it against any man they came in sight of, particularly one of _her_ type. They were all incredibly different, a mixture of martial men and merchants, their beards as remarkable as their sour faces.

As she came to the end of the table, however, her eye was caught by a dwarf with no beard, his face young and the look in his eye reminding her greatly of Tye; the same wonder was there, and it was a surprising thing to see in a dwarf. But she made no more note of it as they approached the head table, her lips pressed to a thin line as she saw the wizard, Lord Elrond, and another dwarf, all three settled into what looked like some sort of council. The grey-bearded troublemaker stood as he saw the three come near, prompting the elder elf to stand as well; the dwarf, however, remained firmly seated, his eyes cold and hard and utterly judgmental.

"Ah, Rhegda. I am glad to see you received my letter, and arrived all in one piece."

Gandalf spoke with the same sincerity that he used with all, the same sincerity that had prodded her to do many a thing before, and she was certain was going to prod her to do so much more. She nodded to Lindir again, and he excused himself after a look to his Lord.

"Yes, Mithrandir, I received your letter, as you assumed I would."

There was a hardness to her voice that was not missed by those present, though that stoney tone softened as she turned to the elf.

"My Lord, thank you for your hospitality. My men sorely needed it."

He gave her a gentle smile and gestured for her to take a seat.

"It is freely given to a friend."

She settled into a chair between both the wizard and the elf Lord, leaving her face to face with the rather angry looking dwarf across from her. His eyes were as hard as the diamonds they once mined, and his face showed so much wear and deep disgust that she was certain he would have left then and there had it not been for the others at the table. But his bearing...it was different than the present company of dwarves. Of any other, really, that she'd ever met. He stared at her as though she was nothing, as though she were lower than he could ever imagine a creature being; she was curious to know how he was dealing so well with the elves.

Tye was so lost in all of this that he simply took up residence behind his leader, eyes trying not to linger on any of the men in front of him, their presence and air being so drastically different than any he'd ever known. They all exuded power in their own rights, and for some reason, his leader didn't seem out of place in the least at their table.

Suddenly, he realized he was being spoken to.

"Tye, why don't you introduce yourself to Lord Elrond's other guests."

There was a smile on his leader's lips that he couldn't see, one directed mostly at the dwarf staring her down. The young archer stuttered for a second before bowing awkwardly to those present and shuffling his way to the other table. Watching him go, Rhegda opened her mouth to speak again when she was interrupted by the glaring dwarf.

"And who is this _woman_ to be here, Gandalf?"

The words were meant to come out harsh, but she could only look at him with something akin to curiosity. The wizard took a moment to smile and chuff before answering.

"Oh, yes, yes. This is Rhegda, an old friend, and one I thought you should meet."

Obviously, this did not sit well with the dwarf, though it was his turn to be interrupted as Gandalf resumed his attention on Rhegda.

"This, my dear, is Thorin Oakenshield. He and his companions are-"

"That's none of my business, Gandalf. What the King Under the Mountain does on his own time is no concern of mine."

It was everyone's turn at the table to look surprised, suspicious, and displeased, in rotating order. Very few would cut into anything the wizard said, let alone dismiss it so handily, though he didn't appear at all miffed at the moment. She had no need to know what the thirteen dwarves were doing in Rivendell, nor did she have the slightest feeling of interest in their plans for the future. That being said, she couldn't shake the feeling that their little journey would be one she might be tagging along with.

By the Valar above, she hoped not.

Lord Elrond had the good taste to not look surprised when she pointedly mentioned Thorin's title, and Gandalf simply closed his mouth slightly and gave her a look she'd seen one too many times. The dwarf king, however, seemed less than pleased, and his cool stare turned from her to the wizard.

"The woman is right, Gandalf. It isn't her business. Nor is it that of the elves."

The two sat with silence between them for a heartbeat only before the greying wizard responded.

"One day you will be glad to have the aid of others, Thorin son of Thrain. Regardless if they be dwarf or not."

That seemed to settle the situation for the moment, as neither appeared willing to continue _that_ particular conversation at the table. Or at least, not in front of that certain set of individuals. Rhegda, in the interim, had filled her plate and placed her napkin in her lap. A fork full of leafy greens was most of the way to her mouth when Gandalf swung his attention back to her.

"You brought the rest of your company along as well? I assume it wasn't only the youth."

Fork paused in midair, the woman cocked an eyebrow though answered with her tone flat.

"Yes, _all three_ are here. Just as you expected. And don't you _dare_ say you had no idea they would follow along."

Stuffing the greens into her mouth, she switched her gaze to the plate, pondering on whether it would be better to follow next with fruit or vegetable as Gandalf carried on.

"I simply speculated on the chance of their continued presence on your travels, that's all. You rarely travel alone these days."

She swallowed and shuffled more leafy food on her plate, reaching out to snare a small sliced fruit from the center tray. Her attention seemed focused on eating, rather than discussion, but she nodded slightly in response to his ending statement.

"Much to my eternal despair."

The dwarf took the opportunity to slip in a comment as he watched the woman eat in front of them all; Elrond had taken to sipping wine and watching the scene unfold with a passive gaze.

"You are a woman, yet you would travel without company?"

Rhegda was once again caught with food partially to her mouth as he spoke, stopping herself from taking a bite so that she could respond.

"Yes, Master Dwarf, I am a woman and I prefer to walk the roads alone. One does not preclude the other."

Popping the fruit into her mouth, she brought up her napkin to wipe a bit of juice from her lower lip. The King Under the Mountain seemed rather put out by this statement, looking at first to Gandalf – who busied himself with his own plate – and then to her, his eyes narrowed.

"You must be a _Ranger_ then. Odd. I've never heard of a woman...nor one of your kin in their ranks."

Rhegda dropped her napkin back to her lap and began searching the table for something a little more substantial; his tone had not been lost on her, nor anyone else at the table. Her next words were careful and clear, and she chose for the moment to ignore the comment of her lineage.

"I am no Ranger. I provide security and guidance to those who travel in unknown lands, nothing more."

She plucked up another fruit, slightly larger than the first, and went about freeing it from its peel.

"And I would suggest you come out from your forges more often, Master Dwarf, for I have seen women Rangers, and I dare say they are a sight more dangerous than men."

Before anyone else could weigh in on the subject, a loud chorus of laughter came billowing from the other table, dwarf and man alike smiling and shouting at something one of them had said. Well, to be fair, _most_ of the dwarves were enjoying the mood; there were a substantial amount, however, that appeared less than pleased at the presence of a man at their table. Regardless, it seemed her bowman had made quick work of garnering at least some trust from the rugged travelers, particularly the dark haired young one, and a blond with a rather fantastic mustache.

All four at their table – woman, elf, dwarf and wizard – stopped to listen a bit at what had caused such an uproar. Evidently, the boy had been telling stories, no doubt ones Syloris had been filling his ears with; she silently hoped none of them were the fantastical retellings of her past exploits. With a huff, Rhegda turned back to her meal, relishing in the silence now prevalent at their table. Perhaps later she would wring out what the wizard wanted, but for now, she was content to just eat.

And perhaps much later, she would find out what exactly Tye had been sharing.


	5. The Elves and a Dinner Party: Part II

Author's Note: keep in mind that what Tye says is from _his point of view_. It may or may not be the complete truth.

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><p><em>The Elves and a Dinner Party: Part II<em>

_Also Known as: The Grown Up Table and the Friendly Wager_

_In which a boy finds a new friend and a dwarf meets someone new_

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><p>He'd never imagined in all his few years that he would meet not only Elves, but a mess of Dwarves in such a short order. Where the Elves had been kind and welcoming, the vertically challenged, burly men at the table he currently sat at were surly and more than a little judgmental. He supposed it had something to do with their history, which Rhegda had once told him about, but he'd since forgotten as it seemed so inconsequential at the time. Of course, he wished now he'd paid better attention.<p>

When he'd approached, their conversation had died out almost immediately, all eyes on him as he had coughed to clear a throat suddenly very dry. One of them, more intimidating than the lot of them together - all tattoos and muscle - had looked him up and down before speaking for the rest.

"What do ya want, boy?"

His tone had been rough and entirely unwelcoming, and Tye had begun to doubt his leader's missive to sit with them. Would they really allow him in? He'd cleared his throat again, shuffling his feet as he'd spoken.

"I...I was told to sit. With you. If that's alright."

His eyes had grown wide as they all continued to stare at him.

"Of course, that is, only if that's fine. By you. I don't want to get in the way. Would I be in the way? I'm so sorry to interrupt."

Abruptly, he'd felt a hand on his wrist pulling him down on the bench between two dwarves that appeared much younger than the rest; but then again, how was he supposed to tell the difference? The one to his left, the one who'd hauled him from his feet, had been all dark hair and dark eyes, and there'd been something about him that reminded the archer of the dwarf sitting at the other table. When he'd looked to his right, there had been a blond dwarf with a bright smile and a mustache to be envied by all. Both the dark haired one and the blond had slapped him on the back and introduced themselves all at once.

"Fili."

"Kili."

Turning quickly between them to keep up, Tye had repeated their names back to them, bringing more smiles to their faces. At that point, the rest of the table had spoken up, announcing names in a rush, though some had been required to point at others who wouldn't speak up, and he could tell those were the ones he wouldn't be holding a conversation with any time soon. Now, the rest were curious as to why he was in an Elfish stronghold, and why he was traveling in general and did he come with anyone else?

Other than the woman.

That was something asked by someone around the table that he'd missed, not catching who said it but answering all the same.

"Oh, I came with the rest of our companions, Syloris and Carden. They are bathing right now, because you see we are all a little filthy and Carden needed it especially. I don't think he ever bathes anyway, but Syloris always manages to smell the nicest out of all of us. I personally think he has some sort of perfume with him, but I would never ask him about it because why-"

"But what about the woman? How did she come here, being what she is?"

That time he could tell the question came from a dwarf with an odd hat and a quirky smile. He hadn't known at the time what the smiling dwarf had been going on about; she seemed normal to him, though he had to admit, he'd never seen anyone that _looked_ quite like her. No matter, Tye had straightened, his chest puffing out a bit as he answered.

"That's Rhegda. She's the leader of our group, and the finest scout and fighter you've ever seen. She's saved me more than once, and I'm almost convinced that she-"

"A woman _leads_ you? And she _fights_?"

Tye missed where that one came from as well, but he carried on regardless.

"Oh yes! All three of us follow her. She knows the roads and the places people won't usually walk, and she can track a trail through any terrain. And a fighter? Of course! Her sword hand is steady and true, and she wades into battle with cold fury. In fact, I've heard many a tale about her heroic stands against orcs and-"

"Orc? She's been against orc? I don't believe it. Many dwarves, fine warriors, have fallen to that filth. I find it difficult to believe a _woman_ of that ilk could do such a thing."

That time he caught the statement coming from the larger, balding dwarf, and his tone made Tye jump slightly in his seat. But then a hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he looked over to see...Fili?...no, Kili grin at him.

"I find it fascinating. She dresses like a man, and you say she fights like one too! She isn't like other women we've seen, right brother?"

Fili shook his head, picking up a glass and pointing it in her direction.

"Her skin isn't pale, it's softer coloured than earth, and her eyes...I've never seen something like that."

"And you talk from grand experience, lad?"

The table erupted into laughter as Tye had searched for who'd spoken up, but all he saw were smiling dwarf faces and a few begrudging grins. He looked back to Fili, who had a bit of a blush and had taken to drinking a little more than necessary; Tye wasn't an idiot – though thought one by many – so he gathered he'd been right to assume these two were junior to the rest. He didn't know that the older of the dwarves could remember what a person of her "ilk" could be, and it caused a great majority of the table to murmur at her presence, though they did not begrudge a seemingly innocent young man for riding with her.

Soon, the stories began, the dwarves trading off their grand adventures and Tye recounting what host of tales Syloris had shared. The dwarves themselves seemed to have taken at least some liking to the boy; he wasn't old enough to be jaded by the world, and he had no prejudice towards them in the least. He laughed at their jabs at him, and he listened raptly at the stories they told. To them, he was entertainment they hadn't encountered in some long while, and though he may have been of Man, he certainly didn't carry the racist nature of his kin.

So, many were content to listen to his tales as they attempted to eat what little there was - because of course, greens were a horror – and share their own quick fables with the boy. The youngest pair of the twelve appeared the most interested, prompting the lad to continue his descriptions of places they'd never been. Most, of course, were told second hand, borrowed from the words Rhegda had used around late night campfires and long trips on dreary roads. When the mood struck her, she could tell of the most wonderful of sights, great cities and terrifying mountains, and those images – more than anything in his life – stuck to him with a vibrancy he could never forget.

It wasn't long before he'd stumbled over his use of a bow.

Looking back, he would say it was a simple comment, thrown out to give one more thing to discuss. In reality, he was searching for anything to prove him worthy of sitting with such accomplished fighters once again.

Instantly, Kili's eyebrows shot up and he nudged the boy with he hand, but before he could get a single word out, a voice from down the way – Nori? Dori? - piped up with a grin.

"Oi! Seems you've got a friend now, Kili!"

The dusky dwarf made a face at one of his kin, and tossed a small loaf of bread down the table to the offending party. Unfortunately, he missed by no small margin, most likely due to his brother's sudden shove from beside him, and the flying foodstuff careened off the ear trumpet of Oin, which in turn was sent clattering away over the stones.

In a move practiced years over, the young dwarf ducked behind Tye and threw the boy a quick "please help me" smile that garnered a gesture of acknowledgment from the other bowman; troublemakers needed to stick together. Or at least, so Tye thought. Oin had continued to fuss about and search for his hearing apparatus as the other dwarves turned their attention back to Tye.

"So how long've you been riding with that woman?"

The boy caught the eye of who he thought to be Gloin – he was still a little fuzzy on the faces – and smiled in a thoughtful manner.

"Almost six months now. She picked me up outside a village somewhere in the middle of absolute nowhere. I was completely lost and had no real direction I could even think to start in. But Rhegda came by with her men and allowed me to join. Only after I showed her how good I was with a bow, mind you. I think she would have just left me, otherwise."

His eyes seemed to look off to a distant point as he remembered the day she strolled through, sweeping him up and carrying him along for more than a few adventures.

"You weren't curious about her?"

A voice broke through his mental wanderings, bringing his attention to...Ori. The nice looking one, the one that seemed the sweetest, and possibly the least martially inclined, of them all. All the dwarves looked at Tye after this, and he sensed they were all interested in his answer.

"Well, yes. Of course. She's...different than most travelers I'd ever seen, and even now, I don't think I've set eyes on anyone quite like her. She is...fierce. And compassionate."

He rolled around the word for a second or two before looking around to see the entire table staring at him, as though that wasn't quite the answer they had expected.

"Oh, she isn't nice! Oh no, trust me, she will never be nice. I think she's broken more jaws and taken out more orc eyes in these past six months than I ever will in my entire life. But she doesn't just kill without thought."

His mind wandered to the tavern, and his mistake with the drunk blond; that man had been the one to pay for Tye's impulsive nature, and Rhegda had surely hammered home just how little time she had for people who were impulsive.

"I still don't believe it. Not till I see it."

The tattooed, balding dwarf spat out the words as he stood, slinging a leg over the bench and motioning for the rest of them.

"Come on. There's nothing more for us here. And Thorin'll be busy for a while."

In staggered amounts, the lot of them stood and followed suit, a couple grumbling on how little they'd had to eat, though most just looked tired. Tye rose as well, but soon felt a pat on his back.

"How would you feel about a friendly competition? Just between us bowmen."

The dark haired dwarf – Kili, he had to remember that – was grinning up at him, no malice or harmful intent present. His brother stood next to him, attempting to prod him along down the hall, but the rather tall dwarf was having none of it.

"We can meet in the morning. Wait, where would we meet?"

His eyes cut to his brother, who simply tossed up his hands and shook his head. Kili looked back to Tye, a questioning look on his face until the boy cleared his throat.

"Why don't you follow me to my room? Then you will know where I am, and we can meet there in the morning."

All in all it was a rather neat way to deal with the situation: a place was set that was more neutral for the dwarf, and Tye would have a bit of company on his way back, the sort of company he had been missing for a while.

Kili grinned broadly and motioned for the boy to lead on, throwing an arm over his brother's shoulders and not noticing the look Tye casts behind them to his leader as she sat eating and conversing with those at the other table. She didn't appear to notice him, so he took that as a sign that he, too, was dismissed. Nodding to the dwarf and returning the smile, Tye wandered back down to his room, thankfully only losing his way once in the maze of halls and rooms. But the conversation was constant and the three men seemed to be getting along rather nicely, all things considered; they had found common ground, and none was really the sort to judge harshly.

Well, at least one of them wasn't.

Once the trio arrived back to the rooms given to the company of Men, Tye gestured to a room and gave a half smile.

"Well, here we are. I suppose I will see you here at dawn?"

Both dwarves nodded, until Kili turned to look at his brother, a frown on his face.

"Oi, who said you were invited?"

The blond smirked and crossed an arm over his chest, propping up his elbow and playing about with his mustache.

"Of course I am going, little brother. I'm sure there will be plenty of wagering involved."

Kili rolled his eyes in response, turning to Tye just in time for them to hear a voice sweep past them from behind.

"So long as you are betting your own coin, Tye. I don't want you becoming Syloris."

All three jumped in response to the voice, and startled, they turned to look at Rhegda as she strode past, her face unreadable. The "adult" table had become tedious and slow, what with Gandalf attempting to fill the silences left by herself and the dwarf king, and Elrond responding just as needed. It had been evident that no useful conversation was going to take place, and shortly after the dwarves had removed themselves from supper, she had excused herself and exited to her room.

Now she was staring at two dwarves and her bowman, wondering at how quickly Tye had made non-hostile acquaintances under these circumstances. It was a testament to his character, she supposed, and though she wasn't overly fond of naivete and altruism, it seemed to do him well.

Kili was trying his best not to stare at the woman who dressed like a man, and wore her dark hair in a braid, and had skin the likes of which he'd never seen. To be sure, she was a woman, and no Dwarf, but then again, she wasn't an Elf. Some part of his natural curiosity itched to know more about her, in particular, if the tales Tye had spoken of were true. He had doubted it before, but now that he saw her up close, he wasn't so certain they didn't have some basis in truth. She seemed...capable to him. The kind of capable that meant she could live through what would leave many in a sore spot. Then again, he was only speculating based on the little that he'd seen thus far, though speculation never really hurt, did it?

Rhegda, on the other hand, was wishing the lot of them would either huddle in Tye's room or move on; she wanted to bathe, and while she took no issue with nudity around men, she was more than certain none of the three would survive if she came out in nothing but a towel and some quick wit.

Out of the three, Tye found his voice first.

"Of course it will be mine. You know I would never bet someone else's coin."

Her eyebrow raised at that, though her look remained passive.

"Well, yes, there was that one time I-"

The woman's other eyebrow followed suit.

"Alright, those two times I borrowed a bit, but that was because Syloris said it was fair."

Rhegda sighed as he spoke and reached back to her tucked braid, retrieving a short, wooden pin from the messy strands and dragging out the tail of hair that fell in a loose heap past her shoulders. She pointed to the two dwarves with the carved pin while her free hand was busy shaking loose her dark locks.

"Would you like to introduce me to your new friends?"

Instantly, the brothers were freed from their staring spell, smiling broadly, and before Tye could respond, they happily announced themselves.

"Fili."

"And Kili."

"At your service."

The perfectly presented final statement by both dwarves nearly brought the touch of a smile to her lips; not enough to be noticeable, but enough so that Tye had his suspicions.

"Rhegda, at yours."

The brothers' cheeky grins grew larger at her response, their meeting of someone _not_ dwarf who knew of courtesy making them doubt slightly their kin's aversion to everything outside their race. Well, perhaps not the Elves; they had a very good reason for their continued hatred of those. But this woman was so different than other Men they'd met. She certainly didn't look like any of them, either. Everything about her was dusky and dark, but not the sickly dark of the things that crawled out from the evils of a tainted night; it was a warm hue that made one particular brother want to touch, just to see if her skin felt the way it looked.

All three – Tye, Fili, and Kili - watched in some manner of fascination and curiosity as her hair was freed completely from its braid, and fluffed down past her shoulders in heavy waves. Tye had seen her only a few times before in such a state, but that didn't stop him from taking in how much that slight alteration changed her appearance. She didn't seem so severe anymore, as though she was slipping out of one persona into another, and he thought the new one suited her far better.

Not that he would ever tell her that.

"So you two intend on holding some small tournament?"

Her voice broke the very short silence, and Kili was the first to jump in, reining in his wandering mind.

"Yes, we thought we'd have a bit of fun, make a few wagers, prove that dwarf eyes are far keener, that sort of thing."

Her bowman started at the last comment, opening his mouth to protest when the blond swept past him in the conversation.

"What my dear brother is saying is that he would just _love_ to have an audience. He can't show off for just us fellows, now can he?"

An elbow from Kili came flying his way as he finished, knocking the wind from him as Tye just stared on in disbelief. Did Fili really insinuate that his leader should watch the "small tournament"? Of course Rhegda would have too many other things to worry about while she was here, and he didn't think she could ever be bothered to just sit and watch two boys play at being expert archers. Well, Tye wouldn't be playing, but he had no idea about the other bowman.

"I never turn down an opportunity to make a bit of coin. Just ask my adolescent, occasionally useless archer."

With that, Rhegda turned with a half wave of her hand holding the pin, and strode back to her room. There would be time later in the following day for her to deal with the mess she was certain to follow her conversation with the wizard, so an interaction between two races that wasn't going to end in blood-shed – she could only hope – would be a nice start to the day. Besides, the bit of competition would be good for her bowman, and perhaps it would be one way of easing him away from her for the duration of their stay.

Tye could only stare at her retreating back as the brothers used him as the punchline of some joke he missed. Was his leader really going to watch them? Was she actually going to take time out of her day to give them an audience? He hadn't forgotten what she'd said at the tavern, and her words – and his actions – gnawed at the edges of his mind. She was a hard woman, but he had seen kindness in her, on rare occasions that the practicality and harshness were cracked slightly, when kindness could be seen in the smallest of her actions.

He's also seen her kindness in her kills.

But there she was, agreeing to watch a childish game for the prospect of gaining a few coins. He knew neither brother understood what just happened, but when he looked down as Fili wished him luck for the morrow, he caught a look on the dark haired brother that he couldn't quite place. The dwarf was watching Rhegda go, eyes slightly narrowed as though he was trying to work something out about her.

"Well, off we go, brother."

The words cut into his thoughts. Fili nodded to the taller boy and began to shove his other half down the hallway. For his part, Kili shoved back but shuffled along, throwing a grin to Tye over his shoulder.

"Morning. Here. And don't forget your _wagering funds_."

That last bit was said with more lilt than the rest, and Tye was left with the distinct impression that the dwarf was going to fleece him the following day. Shaking his head as he watched them go, the young bowman was left still in a wondering state, pondering if there was something about the city he was standing in that brought out an odd sort of good in the people finding shelter there.


	6. A Nighttime Discussion and Wet Hair

Author's Note: Here they are, finally having a bit of together time. Bit of a filler chapter but it needed to happen. Disclaimer on homepage.

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><p><em>A Nighttime Discussion and Wet Hair<em>

_In which a dwarf learns a little something about the world _

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><p>The deep, heavy breathing of the world at rest had always been her favourite sound. After the bruised colours of a sky losing the last light of the day, there came the weighted colour of night, when all things civilized found comfort in beds or hammocks or burrowed holes, and the creatures too evil to name began their prowl. That time, that perfect, permeating dark had become a sort of soothing calm to her, and though she'd had many a thing come out at her from the night, it hadn't lost its calming, lulling caress on her.<p>

In Rivendell, the night was different. Stars shown down to cast neverending light, and the moon hung so clearly in the sky that it bathed all in a silvery, sharp glow. The peace that most found here was lost on her at night; the skies weren't dark enough, the world wasn't still enough. She knew that the others who had found refuge here were – be they dwarf – unsettled by the inhabitants, but would find sleep regardless, no watch needed but one set up anyway. Her men had long since passed into sweet oblivion, though Carden and Syloris had been helped along by more than a few drinks of delicate, strong Elfish wine.

Tye had spent hours going over his bow, pacing his room before tossing himself into his bed and promptly passing out. She knew he was excited to have someone he could share his passion with after so long of riding in her very unappreciative group, and she didn't fault him for that. There had been times she'd wondered if keeping him with them had been the best for the boy, but she also had the feeling that he would have found enormous amounts of trouble all on his own.

As for her, no sleep would come. Too much was waltzing through her mind, bits of what she should or shouldn't do clouding out her thoughts of rest and peace. So, she sat on the ledge of a hall not far from her room, back against a smooth, elegant pillar; one of her legs hung off the edge, while the other was brought to her chest. Her ragged cloak – clean, along with all her other clothing – was wrapped around her tired frame, and she almost missed the smell of the road normally clinging to it. Her bath had been refreshing, and she hadn't been surprised to find the Elves had absconded with her clothes during that time, leaving behind a simple set of robes she'd thrown on simply to be decent should any decide to enter her room.

Now scrubbed and fresh smelling, she could only hope for sleep to come, a feat she knew was as unlikely as her wriggling out of whatever the wizard had planned. It was obvious the drwarves were a part of whatever she was going to be asked to do, and she wasn't fond the logical next step. They were Blue Mountain dwarves; Thorin had lived in that makeshift kingdom after Erebor fell, and now he was in Imladris with a host of mix-matched kin. That thought gnawed at her the most, and she didn't like the implications.

So caught up in her musings, she nearly missed the sounds of light footfalls coming from around the corner of the adjacent hall. They were no Elf steps, as she had a difficult enough time catching those when she was paying attention. No, these must be dwarf. Not bothering to make herself known – he would be on her within a few seconds – Rhegda decided to simply wait and see if the steps would continue on thier way.

They stopped behind her.

Kili had been restless and unsettled after he'd returned to the party, particularly after hearing the horrible stories of a race of Men that were brown skinned and evil, of a culture that knew nothing except conflict and war. His kin had warned him away of the woman they'd all seen conversing with Gandalf and Elrond, and though his uncle had been the other at the table, he especially had given the order that all were to stay away from her. A few had spoken up, stating that if she were friends with Gandalf, then surely she couldn't be so horrible; Thorin had been adamant in his proclamation. Both Fili and Kili had protested that the youngest of her group didn't seem so bad, and after their continued pressure, the king had relented to their little gathering, stating that they would be watched by other members of the company.

The young dwarf couldn't sleep after that, unable to reconcile what he'd seen of the woman before, and the tales of atrocities that the older of his kin had told. Surely, that wasn't her? So, he'd snuck out of his cot and stolen away into the corridors of the city, making his way to his new friend's room; he knew his brother would eventually wake to find him gone, but he was certain the blond would would never tell.

But instead of finding Tye awake – though to be honest, it had been a slim chance he would be – he saw the woman sitting in the moonlight, her raven hair still damp as it spilled down her back in slick waves. This was precisely what his uncle had told him not to do, but he couldn't help himself.

"You are rather silent, for a dwarf."

Her words brought him around to the present, and he smirked to himself.

"You are rather odd, for a woman."

Rhegda let out a huff of a laugh and nodded.

"That is the truest statement ever uttered."

She turned slight to see him standing a few feet away, unmoving as though he was unsure of his next decision. Twisting back around, she settles more against the pillar.

"I don't usually bite, Master Dwarf. You are free to come closer."

It wasn't that she particularly _wanted_ the company, but he was a bit peculiar, and her mind needed something, _anything_ to distract it from its musings. She heard rather than saw him sit down next to her, a polite distance away with his feet hanging over the edge. There wasn't a pressing need, surprisingly enough, for her to say anything. He was quiet for a moment or two, gathering his thoughts, studying his hands as though the answer would be in them.

"I'm not supposed to talk to you."

The words were blurted out almost under his breath, and it was the sort of statement that caused one of her eyebrows to raise. For his part, Kili had no idea why that was the first thing to come to mind after he took the challenge of sitting down. After all, he was already disobeying Thorin, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that the woman wasn't what the others said she would be.

Shifting under her cloak, Rhegda shrugged.

"I suppose your king set that rule down?"

The dwarf nodded, tapping the heel of his boot on the stone behind it.

"He agrees with some of the others. They think you...dangerous."

He censored himself from saying that other word, that word that some had spoken because they knew of no other way to describe to him the state those people - _her_ people - were in.

"_Dangerous_."

The word is rolled around on her tongue before she sighed through a smile and repositioned her cloak.

"I can imagine they spoke of more than just how dangerous I could be, about how I am from a unenlightened world. I imagine the word they used was _evil_."

Her dark eyes slid to the young dwarf, and to her surprise, he was staring back at her. His face was grim, determined, and there was a strength in his eyes that she'd missed the first time they'd spoke so close. He looked away first, his jaw working under black stubble.

Kili had hated when his kin had spoken of someone being _evil_ when they had never met the person, had never spoken to them, never witnessed a single act of transgression from them. He'd lived his life with others taunting him, ostracizing him, pulling him down because he was different that a _normal_ dwarf. He wasn't from a far off realm, he wasn't from a culture that – so he'd been told – loved war, so he couldn't understand her predicament exactly, but he couldn't image her being treated as _less_ simply because she looked the way she did.

"You aren't evil."

When she went to respond, he continued, cutting her off.

"My kin are just...they are protective. You make them nervous, that's all."

Rhegda actually laughed softly at that, dropping her bent knee down so that both of her legs were hanging from the ledge. He was certainly a different breed of dwarf from many others she'd met. He was...kind, a trait she thought only existed in Tye.

"But I don't make _you_ nervous?"

Kili smiled widely at that, brushing back hair from his face as he nodded.

"Me? Nervous? You _must_ be joking."

She turned to look at him, and he grinned back at her, no sign of nerves showing on his handsome face. Rhegda found herself trying to hide a budding smile, so she returned her sight to the broad, moon drenched canvas in front of and below them. One of her hands reached out of her cloak and snared a section of her inky hair. Running her fingers through it, she made a slight face at it still being moist before continuing their odd back-and-forth.

"You've always lived in the Blue Mountains."

It wasn't a question; he didn't look nearly old enough to remember Erebor, though she rethought it and guessed he may have lived in the Iron Hills at some point, however unlikely. He was following Thorin, which made him close to the king. Kili took the "question" in stride, not speculating how she knew and nodding in agreement as he swiped back more hair from his face.

"Aye, born and raised."

His eyes grew distant, and it was a look she'd seen before.

"But I've always wanted to see more. _Do_ more."

Kili's brown eyes alighted on her, and he smiled. She knew what was coming next, and earlier she'd been hoping to avoid it, but now, she didn't mind it so much.

"You've been all over, or so says Tye."

Deciding to simply roll on with the conversation – some part of it was beginning to soothe her agitated thoughts – Rhegda nodded and continued combing through that small portion of her hair.

"Tye's tongue wags a bit too much. Syloris had him once convinced I was part wolf, which was the secret behind my tracking skills. He believed it for nearly two months. Then there was the time he heard a story in some tavern that a dark-skinned woman had laid a curse on an entire village so that all the men turned into chickens at night. _That_ took forever to wring out of his misconceptions of me."

She looked over to see the dwarf smirking and listening rather intently. There was something about him that screamed youth, but behind all that was a sad sort of understanding of the world. Her little ramble hadn't really brought much light as to her "travels" but that was to her liking. She didn't like to brag, or shell out wondrous descriptions for those not knowledgeable in the world, but she felt she should give him some small thing to ponder on.

"But I suppose he has a point. I've been...a few places."

She snuggled back into her cloak, her mind tumbling through a list of possibilities, settling finally on a place she'd always remember, for more than one reason.

"Have you ever heard of Ras Morthil?"

The young dwarf shook his head, keeping his mouth closed in the hopes that she would continue. He'd been distracted at first by her hair as her fingers combed it smooth, but now her words had his full attention.

"The long chain of the White Mountains ends at the Cape of Andrast, and on that end is a single mountain, Ras Morthil. It is a dangerous place, but not because of orc or goblin; strange men roamed the area, and some say they hide in the darker parts of the mountain, using poison darts and deception."

Rhegda swept her hand around her neck, pulling all of her hair over her shoulder, and began to plait it.

"But there is a place just to the top of that last mountain that overlooks the cape _exactly right._ I made it to that spot once, scarcely in time to see the brilliant gold of the sun settle over the water, and as I watched, the entire world seemed, for a moment, filled with light and warmth. I tried to drink in all that I could. And as it faded, pink and orange stretched the horizon, the last colours of a dying day. There were other colours in the sky that day that are beyond description. I wish I had the words at times to tell of their beauty."

Those words stirred in him something he'd never been able to describe before; he was not one for the forges, that much had always been true, he was too impatient, and what she spoke of was something more than just a day trip or a week trek. She was talking about a life spent finding _life_, and he wanted nothing more than to roam, as completely and utterly un-dwarf as that was. Of course, when they reclaimed their home, he would go back to the forges, and he would be the good prince, but the world she described was one he wanted to see.

She could see the wonder in his eyes, and so, as she finished her braid, she followed up her previous statements.

"That was also the mountain where I killed one of my men."

Rhegda stood, taking in the shocked, confused face of the dwarf. He needed the reality check, and she would give it to him as many times as she had to; that had been the only way to keep Tye alive this long. Sweeping her braided locks behind her, the woman stared down at him, her face unreadable.

"The world is wide and it is terrifying. There is beauty in it, but you must be willing to sacrifice to live with that beauty."

The dark-haired dwarf stood hastily, about to open his mouth when she cut him off.

"Goodnight, Kili. Thank you for the conversation."

With that, she turned on her heel and made her way back to her room. Kili was left standing confused, upset, and for some reason, angry. The things that she'd said about the mountain, they were wonderful, and he thought only someone who knew beauty within themselves could appreciate that. But she...she had shown him a dark part of her, a part that his kin had warned him of. Of course, one of her men could have been mortally injured, or sick, but the way she'd said it...it was as though the man had been very much living and breathing when she'd cut him down.

His hands clenched and opened, brow furrowed as his mind refused to give his body a direction to go. Tomorrow...he would see her tomorrow, and maybe then he would get her to explain herself. Until then, his mind reminded him, he needed to dive under a few blankets before his uncle discovered he'd been on a midnight jaunt. With a final look to her direction, Kili shuffled back to his friends, unsure exactly what had transpired.


	7. A Contest and the Rule

Author's Note: A little later than I expected, but it is here nonetheless. And a shameless plug for It's-A-Passion and BlueRiverSteel. They both have excellent works that you should take a look at.

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><p><em>A Contest and the Rule<em>

_In which two archers find good aim and a dwarf shows manners_

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><p>The day had dawned warm and soft, the sun clearing the edges of the valley to bathe the entire city in a gentle glow. She'd been up for some time, having been unable to find sleep after her conversation with the dwarf. And what a conversation it had been. He wanted more out of his life, that much had been clear, but he'd also seemed so <em>sure<em> of himself. He hadn't judged her for what she looked to be; he had been talking to her as an equal, something that had been rolling about in her mind along with all the other thoughts for the coming day.

She'd finally brushed that thought to the back of her mind, pushing it away to think on at a _much_ later date. As she pulled on a boot, a knock was heard at her door; Tye would never intrude until she was already out of the room, and Carden was most likely passed out from the night before. So, that left Syloris.

"It's open."

Shoving her foot into her remaining boot, she looked up to see the swordsman mostly dressed, his shirt and jerkin still open, though his fingers were working on tying them up. She stood and slid on her own long, black vest, lacing it up while speaking.

"What brings you to my room this early, _penada?_"

He smirked at that, tossing his cloak over the back of a chair and going back to the leather strings of his jerkin.

"You know I can't resist your shining personality in the morning, _riel_."

She knew she shouldn't have encouraged his learning of that particular language, but it had come in quite handy more than once. Rolling her eyes, she turned her back to him and shook out her thick, black hair. Rhegda heard his footsteps come closer, and then his deft hands were combing through her locks, tugging them slightly as he separated them into manageable sections.

"I heard there was going to be a little contest today."

There was nothing more to say other than to agree, so she did with a grunt. The woman could feel her hair being folded over and over, her swordsman making steady work of his task.

"Do you think it wise to let Tye loose on these dwarves? There is no telling how good that dwarf actually is, but we both know how talented our boy is."

Rhegda sighed, that very thought having gone through her head multiple times since the mess of them agreed to the match. It wouldn't do anyone any good if there was a feud started simply because her archer was better, and a Man to top it off.

"I've weighed it. I don't think that dwarf will take offense to losing, particularly not to Tye. They seem to be...friends."

With a final tug, Syloris finished up the braid, tying it off with a leather strap she handed over her shoulder. This act, it had been done many a time, and it was a way for them to ready themselves for the day, a ritual that allowed them to discuss their next moves while in private, knowing there would be little chance of them being disturbed. Though she was never one for intimacy, she and the notoriously drunken, handsome man had found a balance between them that allowed for physical touch while maintaining their separate statuses. For his part, Syloris had always enjoyed having a moment with the two of them; Rhegda was a calm woman and intelligent, and he had very rare occasions outside of their morning routine to speak with her. She was an entirely different person when on the road – most usually – and her icy nature rarely cracked until she was behind closed doors. Even then, he'd found it difficult to get past the strangle hold she'd placed on her emotions.

He had ridden with her for years, and she had yet to show him all of her.

"I want your sword on your hip today, Syloris. I don't think much will come of our presence there, but one never knows with dwarves."

She turned to face him, her hands finishing up the laces of her vest. His green eyes were narrowed slightly, but he nodded and took a step back, retrieving his cloak and slinging it over his shoulder.

"As always, I live to carry out your commands, _riel _nín_._"

He grinned then as he retreated from her room, closing the door behind him with a gentle _click_. She was feeling an itch to wear her own blade, but strapping it on at this point would just beg for the dwarves to say something, or perhaps _act_ on something. Sighing, she reached out and snared a smaller belt from the bedpost, the single sheath on it small and well worn. With a practiced sling, she wrapped it round her waist, buckling it swiftly and adjusting the leather so that it rode at the small of her back.

Reaching over to the table beside the bed, she retrieved a simple, curved knife. It wasn't pretty, nor was it particularly elegant. It was functional, and exquisitely sharp, the only two requirements she'd ever had for a weapon. But that particular knife had been with her for most of her life, and was quite possibly the one thing she could consider close to her.

In a sure motion, she slid it home, the sheath making no noise as it came in contact with the blade. As she reached for her coat, she heard voices from outside her door, voices she knew and a couple she'd only recently met.

Stuffing an arm through a leather sleeve, Rhegda opened her door to see a gaggle of people standing around chatting. Tye was the first she spied, his bow in hand and his quiver strapped to his back. There was a smile that he couldn't let go of splashed all over his face, and it was mirrored in that of his dwarven counterpart. Kili was grinning from ear to ear, his own bow ready and a quiver of beautifully fletched arrows slung over one shoulder. His brother had also decided to make the trip, and was standing to the side speaking with Syloris; all were incredibly animated for so early in the morning.

As per her request, her swordsman was strapped and fully armed.

Exiting her room, Rhegda finished donning her coat and swept up beside them, standing arms crossed, until one of them realized she'd materialized in their group. Of course, both Tye and Kili registered her appearance almost immediately, both halting their chattering and turning to face her.

Tye seemed as though he was trying to keep in all the excitement in the world.

Kili was staring at her with some sort of face she couldn't discern.

She couldn't blame him for having misgivings about her after the previous night, so she simply nodded to them both and turned to Fili.

"I suppose you're the one who's going to be running this show?"

The blond grinned and nodded once.

"Of course. I can't expect _them_ to do it, and the rest of our company will be making too many bets to actually keep track. And I can't leave it to you or..."

His words trailed off as he registered what he'd said. The dwarf's mouth hung open for a bit as Rhegda fished out a small pouch that felt heavy with coin. She tossed it to Fili, who – thankfully – caught it and stared back at her.

"I think you know who to put it on."

Sublimely happy that he hadn't trod on her toes, Fili stuffed the pouch into his coat and beamed up at her. Syloris – not one to stand around and do nothing unless alcohol was involved – clapped his hands and rubbed them together, a sly smile on his lips.

"So when are we getting this mess on the road? I'm looking forward to winning well more than my fair share."

With that, the lot of them began traipsing down one of the halls, turning corners as though they knew exactly where they were going; surprisingly enough, they were actually going the correct way. She withheld comment as they strolled, allowing Syloris to take control of the conversation, when and if the two archers allowed him to. They were spirited and jesting, and she had to admit it was good to know Tye was finding a bit of time in which he could practice his craft without that including the head of a man. He had been too young for their journeys, but she'd needed a bowman, and he'd been qualified; she had since wondered if he wouldn't have been better in that miserable little village.

Eventually, the gaggle of Men and Dwarf arrived in a large, impeccably groomed space settled against a structure that seemed to be carved from the hill stone itself, and rose up above them in graceful spires. There were targets already set at varying distances – she would not be surprised to find out the Elves had placed them out during the night – and their bright colours glittered in the early light.

Eagerly, the bowmen hurried onto the field, only to find they had an audience. Most of the dwarves had already taken up residence on the benches lining the stone wall, eating what she assumed to be their second breakfast for the day. A couple more were standing near the entrance, one of which appeared taller, broader, and far more menacing than the rest combined; he had the look of a dwarf who'd seen the world in flames, and attempted to beat back the heat with an ax and pure attitude. He, of course, sent her a dark look, to which she replied with an incline of her chin; she had no intent to stir up problems between the groups, and if particular members of the other company could keep their prejudices to themselves, then it could be a good day.

She also caught the small form of a race she hadn't seen in years: a Hobbit. He was sitting amongst the dwarves, eating and trying to keep out of the way of flung food and flying wagers. The presence of a Hobbit changed the situation no small degree; he _had_ to be there because of the damn wizard, and if that man was gathering together multiple races, then he was planning something very mischievous and _very_ dangerous. She wasn't entirely certain how she felt about this revelation, but she decided to keep it to herself for the moment, saving it for a time when she could confront the old codger.

She didn't, however, see any trace of the self-righteous dwarf king.

Fili and Syloris had scurried off to the benches, the blond dwarf talking non-stop the entire way, and going so far as to introduce the tall man to the rest. They seemed inclined to allow him to sit, particularly when he flashed his best smile and waved an over-burdened pouch of coins at them; if there was nothing else redeeming about the swordsman, it was that he could carry on with nearly any race or individual, coming out with a friend in the end.

Though, she'd also seen him in more than one bar brawl.

For herself, she remained at the entrance, leaning against a wall not far from the burlier dwarf, her eyes sweeping over the field and her body lax; she had the feeling that dwarf in particular was one petitioning for her exile. She didn't begrudge him that, as it was a reasonable reaction; a stigma was a stigma, no matter how far from home one travels.

A cheer from the gallery broke her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see the bowmen setting up for their first shots. Tye was smiling, but she could see it in him, the controlled tension that ran through his body as he prepared. The first time she'd witnessed it, she thought he was simply unable to relax, but the more she watched, the more she came to realize that he _was_ relaxed; he was focusing the control he needed to the proper points of his body. It was a trick she'd only seen in much older archers, and it had surprised her to see it in him.

The dwarf, however, had a loose smile that was mimicked in his stance, his body language mellow and his fingers light on the bow. Rhegda had never seen a dwarf archer, so her interest was raised at the prospect of actually seeing him shoot. That one thing she couldn't put a finger on was still there, still in his smile, and in his eyes. It was similar to the way he'd looked at her the previous night, and it gnawed at her that she didn't know how to describe it.

Her eyes darted back to Tye as he nocked an arrow and smoothly pulled back the string. His partially gloved fingers brushed his cheek for the briefest of moments, bringing the bow to full draw, before they relaxed, allowing the taunt string to slide free, sending the dark-fletched arrow whipping to the target. In the perfect silence during its flight, she could see the incredible look of focus on the normally shy, smiling boy; he was in his element, and she knew from that one look that he wasn't going to hold back.

The arrow impacted the nearest target just left of center, and it wasn't a mistake; he had taken a cold shot, one that told him everything he needed to know about the wind, the moist air, and the distance.

He wouldn't miss again.

She smiled at the thought of her bowman winning such a harmless, important competition; his ego would take a boost, and he would earn the respect from at least a half-dozen dwarves. There were shouts about losing and winning funds from the gallery, and coin changed hands. Tye, for the most part, seemed unphased by the chatter behind him, and he focused instead on his opponent. Rhegda crossed her arms before she, too, turned her attention to the dark-haired dwarf archer, drowning out the gallery noise and focusing on his shot.

Kili had been in much noisier situations with his kin before, so taking a shot at a target in a controlled environment would be easy. Well, at least, it _should_ be easy. The boy beside him had taken an excellent shot, and he knew from experience that the placement of the arrow had been a tested one; the other bowman was good, but it was time to see just how good he was. Smiling, the dwarf pulled an arrow free and set it to the string, eyes on the target; where Tye had taken in the target's distance once drawn, Kili determined it as he drew the bow. As soon as his arrow tip was in his sight, his body adjusted to the correct distance and he loosed the arrow, sending it downrange with equal silence.

It missed center by only a small margin, one that mimicked Tye's own shot.

His method had been different, less refined, than her archer's, and for a moment she wondered if it wasn't intentional. Then, it hit her: he had never been trained. From what she knew of dwarves – and those she'd met – they weren't keen on long range weaponry. Kili would have grown to use a bow on his own, and from that foundation, he'd come to that style; it was sleek but unrefined at the same time. It said something about his character as well, being that he would have lived through many a sharp remark and no few jests at his expense. Along with the lack of beard, he stood out from his kin, and not in a good way.

Some small part of her found a bit of respect for the young dwarf.

As both set up for their second attempts, she heard the approach of another next to her. It wasn't the angry, robust dwarf, but the one that had been standing next to him; he was entirely different from the other, being shorter, slightly slimmer, and sporting a lovely, fully grey beard. The dwarf stood for a moment, watching the pair of archers, before speaking up without a hint of malice in his voice.

"Your bowman is quite talented."

She didn't look to him, but nodded all the same.

"As is yours, Master Dwarf."

A short chuckle issued from the older dwarf, and he smiled with an agreeing motion.

"Aye, he's good. Bit more of a trouble-maker than we'd like, though."

Rhegda did look down at that, taking in his stature and kind face. He was smirking in a knowing way, and she had no doubt that he knew of the late conversation the night before, but it appeared he held nothing against her for it. In fact, if she wasn't mistaken, he was breaking a hard rule as well just by standing next to her.

"I would like to say they grow out of it, but if Syloris has taught me anything, it's that some children will always remain children."

Another cheer caught both of their attentions, and the woman saw the bowmen were readying their third shots, though they were far longer. Previously, the pair had remained equal; she was curious to know just how long that would hold.

"Thorin's decision is that we should _try_ to avoid you. Your men, however...they are welcome. Particularly your youngest."

The words that bit into the moment were said with an apologetic tone, and she heard in him the reasonable dwarf that his king had most likely ignored. Her eyes still held the contest in their sight, but she sighed deeply.

"His decision is understandable, Master Dwarf. And I would be most pleased for Tye to have more than myself or Syloris to speak with."

That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting, particularly not from a woman that had been chill to the wizard, and utterly dismissive of their king. She had accepted the unfair ruling of Thorin without question, though it was obvious to him this sort of treatment was a thing she had become accustomed to. He was bitter to Elves, and would be to his dying day, and Men were worth very little, but he'd met Men of integrity. Should they have judged her more a Man, and not the brown hue of her skin?

Realizing he'd taken too much time contemplating, he cleared his throat.

"My apologies. I've not introduced myself."

He took a step forward and bowed.

"Balin, at your service."

She looked down to him as more cheers sounded through the area. It was odd that he was putting forth that much effort, but she assumed it wouldn't harm anything to return a bit of it. So, she returned his gesture with one of her own.

"Rhegda, at yours."

She opened her mouth to ask why he was risking the ire of his king by speaking with her when the indignant looking dwarf next to them could no longer hold his thoughts to himself.

"Ye shouldn't of introduced yourself, brother. And ye definitely shouldn't of offered her anything."

Both Balin and Rhegda glanced to the surly dwarf, who in turn was facing them, arms crossed. There was an intimidating factor to him that would have put most people off, but she'd stared into a rabid orc's face once too many times for such a look to bother her overmuch. She did, however, take it for the warning that it was intended to be.

"No offer other than civility was given, Master Dwarf."

There was a sudden weight in the air that settled between the worn dwarf and the brown skinned woman, one that Balin hurriedly jumped into.

"We are already suffering the hospitality of Elves, brother, so what alarm should occur from a few words with this woman?"

There seemed to be much more that the unnamed dwarf was hoping to say, but his chance to speak was drowned out by a ruckus from those still watching the game. Balin, his brother, and Rhegda all turned to witness Kili performing a pivoting snap shot, one that landed his arrow a few inches from center. It was an impressive maneuver, one that took a great amount of skill and practice to perform usefully; many who attempted it were simply showing off, but she could see the practicality of it in his motions. But Tye...Tye had a smile on his face, and out came two arrows at once, a smirk on his lips as he rotated away from his targets.

Now the crowd was louder than ever, shouts of disbelief and encouragement drowning out all other sounds from the morning; their antics had caught the eye of more than a few Elves, and they stood on the high balconies, looking down to the competition below, some judging, others giving faint smiles to the scene. She dearly hoped none other noticed their presence.

Her eyes dropped back down to see Tye suddenly whip around, both arrows finding their place on the string as he draws mid-turn. Once again, the boy brushes the tight string to his cheek before letting fly the two arrows. They come home to either side of Kili's single one, level but not perfectly spaced. Tye threw up his hands in a victory gesture, then thought better of it as he spun around to see his opponent, not certain if he'd angered the dwarf.

Quite the contrary.

The dark-haired bowman pointed dramatically at Tye, his face pure excitement as he cheered along with the gallery. A bit distracted by the display, she nearly missed Balin's next words.

"The boy is very remarkable. Who was it that trained him?"

The woman shrugged, shaking her head and watching as the dwarf archer set up for a kneeling shot.

"From what he has said, family, though I can't be certain."

Nodding almost to himself, Balin frowns before questioning again.

"And does he know the sword?"

At that, Rhegda stands from her position on the wall, dropping her hands to clasp them in front of her.

"Some. Syloris is doing his best, but the boy seems to have no head for it. And Carden teaches the knife, but I know the _instructor_ detests every moment of it."

Before the greying dwarf could say anything more, his brother spoke up, tone scornful and rough.

"And what do _you_ teach him, then?"

She didn't bother to glance his way; she knew what emotion was on his face. Sighing mostly to herself, she took one last look at the pleasant sight unfolding in front of her before replying.

"I teach him how to stay alive."

Rhegda turned to nod at the sullen, now hard-eyed dwarf, giving him a slight bow and then faced his brother. A short, quick smile touched the corner of her lips as she bowed to him as well, heart slightly lighter for having spoken with him.

"I wish you good morning, Master Balin. And thank you."

She gave him enough of a moment to return the gesture before striding off in search of the man who had tossed her in with Elves, Dwarves, and a peculiar Hobbit, though her mind didn't hesitate to remind her of one particular, adventurous member of the group.

Nor would it let her forget his kind smile, and knowing eyes.

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><p><em>penada: Fatherless (bastard)<em>

__riel __nín__: my princess__


	8. The Stroll and the Bench

Author's Note: This is a short one, but rather important. The next chapter is already on the way. Also, I would like to thank the following: Rainbor123, Vaughn Tyler, Vanafindiel, katnor , kEs-2717, punky warhammer, guest, BlueRiverSteel and It's-A-Passion. And to all of you who have followed/favourited, I wish to thank you as well.

Guest, you have voiced an issue that I have been dealing with for a while now. I am not sure if I want to handle all the dwarves, and then four other people on top, but it seems like Rhegda's group has become rather inseparable (maybe not Carden).

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><p><em>The Stroll and the Bench<em>

_In which a musing occurs and a wizard appears _

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><p>The sounds of the small tournament faded behind her as she left the grounds, and followed a winding path back to the main halls of the city. She wasn't looking for any particular place to head for; the woman was ambling because her feet needed to walk, and her mind needed the company of herself. Of course, if she happened upon that damn wizard, they would have words, but for now, she needed time to rearrange a few thoughts.<p>

Rhegda had never been one to sit and wait for any long period of time, and she knew that if he had his way, Gandalf would hold her here until she couldn't bear it any longer. He was putting a taxing burden on her shoulders, and she wasn't even sure what that burden was exactly. She wasn't slow, by any means, which meant she understood there as a connection between her arrival and that of the dwarves', but the connection eluded her, and that fact irritated her to no small end.

So she walked.

The few elves she passed were courteous and genial, striding by in clothing that would make many a king jealous. There had been a time many years ago where she would have been a slight bit embarrassed by her appearance among them, but she had long since become comfortable with who, and what she was; her clothing was her own choice, while her skin was not. She'd decided that since one couldn't be changed, she would work around it, and own what she had become.

But what had she become? A woman who was cool to most, hard on those she kept close, and utterly uncaring of the opinions of others? Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing, but it left her – on the rare occasion – thinking she would be a very different person had she been born without the stigma of her tribe. What if she'd been born to the Elves? Elegant and refined and beautiful, would she have been the cold woman now walking their halls? And what about a Dwarf? If she'd been of their kin, would she have possibly known those currently under these eves? Would she have known them without their prejudice?

Would she have known _him_?

It was during this musing that she nearly collided with Lindir, who merely smiled and stepped graciously out of her way. His face turned thoughtful, and he broke the silence before she had the chance.

"Is something troubling you, friend?"

His voice as always was gentle and his Sindarin perfectly articulated. Rhegda made a small gesture with her hand, as though to wave off the concern, though she returned his kind smile.

"No, thank you."

Her own response was grammatically correct, though in no way as elegant as his words had been. She made to leave before turning back abruptly; Lindir still stood in place, as though expecting her return.

"Yes. Have you perchance seen Mithrandir? I have a distinct _need_ to speak with him."

The refined elf shook his head and clasped his hands in front of him.

"I am afraid Mithrandir is at council with the dwarf king. It seems they will be engaged for some time."

A frown creased Rhegda's face as he spoke, and she sighed long and low.

"Many thanks, Lindir. And thank you greatly for your patience. With everything."

Her arm made a slight sweeping motion, meant to encompass both her own men and the dwarves. The brunet elf smiled and nodded, stepping to move away as he spoke.

"I am certain the reason for your presence will be made know soon. Until later, good afternoon, Rhegda."

She watched him go for some times before continuing on her way, ambling with no clear path until she came to outcropping that jutted out over a larger waterfall. The surface of the stone was near polished marble, though it bore intricate inlaid designs of various other stone. The sun shone brilliantly over the hills now, washing her in dazzling warmth and a gentle touch of something she'd never felt anywhere else. It had no name, this touch, but it encouraged her to sit on the handsomely fashioned bench near the edge and simply drink in what she saw.

Time slipped by unchecked until she felt a body sit next to her. The sun had filled the valley with its glow by then, but she'd not dared moved for want of a bit more comfort, a bit more warmth. The person shifted for a moment, then spoke, his voice carrying though her pleasant state.

"Why is it I always find you alone amongst so many others, my dear?"

Rhegda didn't change her position, nor the relaxed, comfortable look on her face.

"Because alone means I can converse with the only one who has any sense."

She should tell he was smiling at that, and he nodded a time or two, most likely in agreement. He'd squirreled himself away on more than one..or two...or many occasions before, so he had no reason to discuss "alone" with her. She adjusted her posture and threaded her fingers together in her lap, still looking out over the valley. He'd known, somehow he'd _known_, that she would be here, and he had waited until she was drowning in pleasant emotions and faint memories before approaching her. He was and remained a tricksy one.

"You brought me here for a reason, and yet you have forgone telling me what, exactly, that reason is."

The wizard stared out at the sight below them as well, taking a moment before replying.

"There is a quest of great importance, one that relies on secrecy, stealth, and no small amount of luck."

He turned to her finally, his eyes looking her face over for reaction.

"Thorin and his company are small, but they are loyal and strong. However, I feel they will fail if they do not have someone experienced to guide them."

At that, she bent over, her elbows resting on her thighs. She didn't like was he was implying, and he was implying a _lot_. Lead a gaggle of dwarves to some unknown destination, fighting with them the entire way because she, herself, wasn't Dwarf, and carrying blame should something happen to one of them. She'd been in terrible contracts before, but that seemed idiotic and dangerous in the extreme.

"You know that I rely on absolute authority when I work. No dwarf in his stubborn, right mind would obey my word. Particularly not a king."

Gandalf opened his mouth to respond when she held up a hand.

"If the next words out of your mouth are "this is a favour" then know I will damn the day you were born and curse you for all eternity."

Rhegda stood then, stretching slightly before rounding on the grey wizard. Her mouth was set in a hard line and her posture was stiff, but there was a defeated air about her that the old man couldn't ignore.

"I will think on it. And I am certain you will need time to convince your dwarf king that I would be a good choice."

That having been said, she stepped around the bench, and left the wizard to his own ruminations.


	9. The Book and the Swordsman's Smile

Author's Note: One last chapter before we get to Kili and Rhegda really interacting, and a very pointed, intense conversation with Thorin, which no one in that party will like and I'm fairly certain no one of the various parties will be satisfied with the outcome. Well, possibly Gandalf.

Yes, there is Black Speech in this chapter. I may eventually tell you how they learned it. Or maybe not.

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><p><em>The Book and the Swordsman's Smile<em>

_In which a favourite tale is read and a cunning tongue wins the moment_

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><p>Rhegda took to another stroll after her meet with the wizard. She was unhappy, displeased, but above all, she was <em>caught<em>. There were so many reasons why she shouldn't go on this "quest", beyond just the dislike of the company, but she knew in the end, none of them would compile enough to free her of the debt she owed that grey man.

And he knew it.

Her feet eventually found her a library, one of the many small places of rest and study sequestered away in the city. The circular room was not so big as the suite her own small company had been given, and it lacked the more ornate works of architecture seen further inside the city. A few elves were reading, some at work, but none raised their eyes to show they noticed her in the slightest; that suited her fine, of course. The woman walked along a row of shelves, noting the poetry and romances littering the walls, but then her eyes alighted on a particular tale she'd always adored.

Freeing the small book from its home, she ran her fingers over the dark leather cover, relishing the feel of something so smooth and clean. The binding wasn't anything of particular beauty, but its simplicity brought her more joy than others filigreed and golden. When she turned to exit with her prize, she found not a single elf had paid her any mind, and she made her way from the room without so much of a glance her direction.

It wasn't anything new, to be ignored, particularly not by the Elves; they had a way about them that echoed of forgotten kingdoms and timeless power, and it lent them the air of those who had little worry for those whose lives ran much shorter than their own. To be fair, she'd met many a congenial Elf, their temperaments closer to that of Lord Elrond's, or even Lindir's at times, but most others kept to themselves, and expected the rest of the world to do the same.

Her musings accompanied her back to her room, whereupon entering she flopped ungracefully atop the bed, one leg hanging off the edge and her head missing the pillow by no small margin. As soon as she pried open that lovely book, all was forgotten, and she fell into a story she'd never thought of being tired of; love and loss, respect and betrayal, but first and last a couple whose companionship spanned all things, and came out the stronger for it. She had never quite figured out why such a tale would bind her attention so, but no matter when or where she read it, the story gripped her tight and refused to relinquish hold.

She was well into the tale when a knock came to her door, a rather authoritative one at that. Groaning, she tossed an arm over her eyes and wished that for one day, just one, she could be left alone to think. Not that she had been thinking, per se, but the reading had loosened her thoughts a bit, clearing her frustration enough to work out the problem presented by the wizard.

"What?"

The word was barked out with a grunt, and she dearly hoped it was just an elf bringing towels or some other such sundry.

Once again, luck had forsaken her. The door opened and familiar footsteps approached her bed.

"My, my, aren't we in a mood."

Rhegda grunted as her swordsman spoke, rolling her eyes under her arm as she refused to look at him.

"According to you, I'm _always_ in a mood."

She lifted her arm enough to see his figure, but not his face.

"What do you want?"

She could tell he was smiling without needing sight of his face. Of all her riders, Syloris knew her the best, and there were times in which she'd thought he might know her a bit _too_ well. True enough, they'd had their fights, once or twice coming to blows, but he still managed to have a way with her that none other had managed.

"Get up. We've been invited to dinner."

Dinner? Of course. The Elves, more particularly Elrond, would want to share their main meal with their guests, and that expectation sent her stomach to reminding her she'd not eaten but once, and that was only a handful of fruit from her room. Perhaps she could just sit it out, take supper where she lay, but she knew Syloris would never let that one go.

True to form, he kicked at her booted foot as it hung from the bed.

"Up. I know it is so terribly difficult for you to socialize, but this needs to be done."

She dropped her arm from her eyes, taking him in with an annoyed, skeptical look.

"I'm quite sure the Elves will survive without me for this one night. I don't think Rivendell is going to fall down round their ears should I not attend."

At that, he tipped his eyes to the ceiling and reached over her to snatch up her book, snapping it closed while he smiled down at her.

"Not the Elves. The _Dwarves_. They've invited Tye and myself, which of course was to be expected,what with Tye's remarkable ability to be _nice_ and my own talent at – gah, _skessa_!"

His windy explanation was cut short as she returned his earlier kick with one of her own, though it was a sight more forceful. Frowning, Syloris waved the book at her and pulled a face that he'd made many a time at her, then huffed to continue.

"As I was saying, the _dwarves_ want us to join them for supper. That includes you, too. And you can thank me for that. Oh, and that dark haired dwarf with no beard. He seemed _most_ particular to have you around."

His wolfish grin was met by her glare, and the swordsman stepped back as Rhegda sat up and swung her other leg off the bed. It was obvious she was slightly confused and more than a little put out at having been disturbed, but Syloris knew she wouldn't be able to resist; there was something going on between her, the wizard, and the dwarves, and dinner was a perfect opportunity to find out what that something was.

The woman smoothed back a collection of stray black strands from her face, prompting Syloris to gently drop the book on the nightstand before returning to the bed. His calloused, long fingers reached behind her head and pulled free the leather strap holding her braid in place; she didn't fight him, didn't tell him no, she simply dropped her head forward and let rest her forehead on his belt. His fingers didn't take long to unbraid the inky sheets of her hair, brushing it out so that it fell over her shoulders. The swordsman would have asked if she wanted him to plait it again, but her hands reached up and gripped his wrists. Frowning, the older man said nothing, and waited for her to voice what she was thinking.

"I'm to go with them, Syloris. The wizard has told me he wishes for me to lead them, _on their quest_."

That last bit almost issued with snarl, and she pulled away from him enough to look up at his face, her expression unreadable to even him.

"I want you to take Tye and Carden and leave early tomorrow morning. Don't ask why, don't let Tye throw a tantrum. I'm sure you won't have to worry with any bloody goodbyes."

He was confused for a moment, her words hitting him much harder than they'd ever done before; it wasn't unheard of in their time together for her to simply jaunt off into the night and not leave word of where she was traveling, or even if she would be back. Without fail, however, she'd found him, and they'd continued on their way together. In some strange way, he supposed she was making him soft; he knew she would always return, no matter how much time had passed, and he knew she would be the same Rhegda that had spirited away.

He had the feeling the "quest" wasn't going to be like that. He had the feeling she wouldn't be sure to return.

Rhegda released his wrists and stood, not looking him in the eye as she swept by him and made a move to the door. She only took a step or two before the swordsman's hand found her forearm. It stopped her for a moment only, enough for him to say what needed to be said.

"We would go with you."

Her arm is freed and she continued out the door without a backwards glance; she knew there was no manner of twisting or turning that would untangle her involvement with the mess the grey wizard had dragged her into, but she was still ruffled at the idea that she would be leading the _exiled King Under the Mountain_ to Valar knew where.

She had a few ideas, but she didn't want to think about them.

The again, perhaps it wouldn't happen. Perhaps Gandalf wouldn't be able to convince the Dwarf King that she needed to be the one guiding them. Maybe, if she were every truly lucky, Thorin would completely turn down the offer and refuse an allowance of her joining, for any reason. Knowing her and luck, however, she knew the latter was most likely a dream. Although the former had some merit in the discussion; if she could be placed within the party but not at its lead, then she would be free of any outcomes that were...unpleasant.

The woman shook her head at the tumbling thoughts, jostled out of her musings by a hand on the small of her back.

"Rhegda, your hair is down."

She turned on her heel to stare up at Syloris' soft smile, and a hand that held up a black ribbon, embroidered with silver thread. Immediately, one of her dark eyebrows raised and he brought up both hands in a conciliatory gesture.

"It was freely given, by a very endearing elf lady who thought is would look _perfect_ in my hair."

The green-eyed bastard waggled it in front of her face and she stared blankly at his antics.

"I think it would look much better in yours, Rhegda. Besides, do you want the lot of them to see you like...this?"

He had a point; her attire was male, and her attitude was far from feminine, but when her lengthy tresses were down, they lent her an air of someone much softer, and that had never been a look she'd desired. It had struck the swordsman as odd the first time he'd heard her tell of this, and he'd wondered why she didn't simply chop it off; he eventually realized that no matter how cursed her previous life had been, one always wants to carry something that reminds them of home. For her, it was her hair, but she guarded it closely.

She remembered suddenly her talk with the dark dwarf.

"One of them has already witnessed them down."

Syloris' face turned into a slight frown at that; it was very rare that she felt that relaxed in the presence of a stranger. Shrugging a bit, the swordsman gripped her by the shoulders and abruptly turned her around. No matter that they were out in the hall at night; he was going to put her armor back on.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean they all must. Besides, I like it better when it's up."

It was a complete lie, and she knew it. But she let it slide by all the same.

"And I live to cater to what you like best."

She couldn't see his smirk, but she knew it was there all the same. His hands were making quick work of the braid, and from the feel of it, the plaits would be rather intricate, the ribbon spun throughout her black hair, where it would blend to only leave silver behind. She knew what he was doing, and it was an intelligent move, one she should have though of before.

With a tug, she felt the braid finish, and Syloris smoothed a bit down from behind her ear as he nodded to himself. She batted his hand away when it came to do the same with her other ear, and she turned to face him once more. He grinned down at her, seemingly rather pleased with himself.

"Now, to dinner, my lady?"

Rhegda exhaled in annoyance and motioned for him to lead the way, to which he replied with a slight bow and a sauntering step, whistling an off-tune version of some childish melody. She matched her stride with his, and together they strolled down the halls, him ambling seemingly without care, and her lost in thought.

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><p><em>skessa: very ugly woman, female troll <em>


	10. The Meal and the Conversation

Author's Note: Firstly, I would like to address the fact that I am melding the book and movie for this story. Secondly, this will not be a "fall over one another fluff happy" relationship. Love may not even be in the vocabulary for these two (unless the end of this story changes drastically). I thought I should give warning to that now, before people begin wondering why there aren't kisses and girly giggles and stammering dwarves by the next three chapters. Or ever, in their case. So if deep respect and a rough idea of a relationship are things you would like to read about, then please do continue (I am a fan of feedback...). If not, turn back now.

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><p><em>The Meal and the Conversation<em>

_In which a woman finds strange company and a dwarf asks a question_

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><p>The dinner was in full swing by the time the tardy pair made their appearance. Then again, dinner was a bit of an understatement for what sat before them. A long trestle table had been laid out, flanked by benches that, though simple, still held the elegance of Elvish craftsmanship. A fire pit had been placed near the center of the large room, and it cracked and popped with unbridled glee, flickering orange light over all those present, and painting the normally pale walls warm shades of red and gold. What appeared to be a deer of some sort was roasting on a spit, and she could only imagine the lengths the dwarves would have been reduced to in order to get such a thing in Rivendell.<p>

Then again, the Elves _were_ accommodating when they wanted to be.

Only a handful of the dwarves noticed their arrival, but as soon as they stopped consuming the mounds of meats and breads spread over the table, their fellow travelers looked up as well, eyes either assessing or welcoming. But the sudden silence gave her the feeling that she was being presented to them, brought for them to judge and weigh on what merits they think she may or may not possess. Even her appearance was being looked over carefully, and as Syloris brought her to the table – when had she allowed him to lead her? - the dark haired bowman flashed her a smile that held no guile, and more than a little mischief.

Tye immediately perked up, and motioned for them both to join the group. He was excited, barely containing his enjoyment of the moment, and she was glad that he, for one, was oblivious to what was actually going on. Rhegda could only nod to him as she pulled free of her swordsman's presence, choosing to take a seat to the end of the table, away from the dwarves and presenting a slight buffer to keep them less inclined to make comments, or try awkward conversation.

She could see the look of disappointment in Tye as she declined his gesture, and instead he was forced to make room as Syloris shoved his taller frame in amongst the group. They all – with the exception of the angry dwarf from that morning and a couple of frowning compatriots – accepted him, and encouraged him to fill his plate with everything the table had to offer.

Rhegda was content to watch them from the corner of her eye, picking at meat and bread, noting the distinct lack of anything green in what was offered. Of course, it only took a moment or two before her green-eyed rider took up the telling of jokes and stories at the expense of their young archer. Laughter quickly filled the space again, and she felt the tug of something good in her, something she rarely felt anymore. There was companionship and excellent food surrounding her, and though she was not a part of it, she could appreciate it for what it was.

Well, she was _supposedly_ not a part of it.

She'd just taken a drink of what she assumed to be mead when a dark figure plopped itself down next to her, dropping its plate onto the table and with even less ceremony, depositing its mug beside. Looking over the top of her glass, she saw it was the dwarf bowman, and his smirk told her he was planning a conversation whether she wanted it or not. Resigning herself to the moment, she finished her sip and replaced the glass, raising an eyebrow in the process.

"I retract what I said about you being quiet."

His grin widened and he brought his elbows to the table, hands hovering over his plate.

"I still think you're peculiar for a woman."

She nodded silently at that, agreeing while choosing to fill her mouth with food instead of words.

Kili had noticed her the instant she'd entered the room with the swordsman. Her clothing was the same as before, all dusky and masculine and entirely fitting for her, but her braid...it had been something to stare at. He knew then that his kin had noticed it as well, and that in itself had been a great cause of their silence to her appearance. The braid was strong and full, starting halfway up her scalp, and the silver threading through the black strands was a statement: it wasn't a braid to be pretty. It was a braid to show strength.

He had wondered then if she'd known what she was wearing.

Kili had some idea how those two had come across Dwarfish braiding styles, but he wondered if they knew what they had done; from the ease of her appearance and the subtle glances Syloris had thrown them all when he'd joined them, they both had been fully aware of their actions. So, that in mind, he selected a roll from his plate and continued the one-sided conversation before biting into the soft bread.

"We couldn't keep from starin' at the braid. It's quite close to one of ours. Where'd you learn it?"

Rhegda swallowed what little was left of her bite and shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over her thigh at the ankle. She reached over a dish or two and pulled free a leg of what seemed to be a pheasant. The woman didn't look at him when she responded, keeping her eyes on her task.

"Are you always so chatty, Master Dwarf?"

He coughed a laugh at that, though he didn't miss a beat with his response.

"My kin would heartily say yes, though I think it's one of my many attractive faults."

She did look at him then, and was abruptly taken aback by the look on his face. There was his half grin, as what she assumed to be usual, but those brown eyes of his flickered with firelight and devilry, and his presence suddenly took more space than she remembered of the dwarf the night before. He was confident in himself, and she wondered if it wasn't an emotion washed over from the tiny tournament; regardless, he seemed older, and that sadness she'd seen in him before was manifest in the swagger in him now.

"And how many Dwarf women would agree?"

He snickered, but she could see the question had struck him slightly; he had a practiced front, and she respected his ability to play the fool when he was wounded.

"Of the ones I've known?"

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully for a moment.

"None, although I'd have to say you'd be a first in general."

Kili's broad smile and cheeky nature should have put her off; she was never keen on men who fell to cheap comments and silly airs. However, for some inexplicable reason, the dwarf was getting under her skin, and she felt a quick smile form on the edges of her lips as her eyes roamed the dwarfish gathering.

She was quick to note the hobbit, the irascible King,and the polite, genial dwarf from the contest were missing.

Shaking her head at his comment, she peeled a portion of the pheasant thigh off and brought it to her lips.

"Master Dwarf, I feel that would be one of _many_ firsts from me."

Her eyes cut to him, and he laughed with such humor that is made her wonder if life had ever been that easy before. He rounded up another mouthful of supper, eating with that same grin while she thoughtfully chewed on the roasted bird. She could tell he was staring at her as he ate, which prompted her to turn her eyes back to him as well, matching his stare.

"Am I truly so entertaining, Master Dwarf? I feel as though your mind has lost all sense, from the way you stare."

Kili shook his head at that, swallowing roughly. He would readily admit she was something he wanted to understand, moreso than his kin, and she was more accessible than the night before; they had spoken then in quiet tones, and she'd shared something beautiful and dark, but now, she was trapped by the dinner and the rest of his company, their presence preventing her from making any sudden disappearances without tarnishing what little reputation Syloris, Tye, and himself had tried to garner throughout the day.

And he was of the mind that she knew _exactly_ what she was in.

"Stop calling me "Master Dwarf". I've a name, and you know it."

She didn't know why, but she returned his volley.

"Very well, then, _Kili_. Question still stands."

The dwarf looked rather pleased with himself, and he slung one leg over the bench, straddling it so that he could look at her fully. For her part, Rhegda continued her meal, awaiting his response. She could see the smile of his still ghosting his lips, and suddenly she no longer thought of him just like Tye. There was something below that smile that wasn't childishness or _nice_; Tye had killed men, but he didn't have the gravity to his presence that the dwarf did. It was something she took note of, but thought nothing more of when his voice broke through her pensive moment.

"I'm fully aware of myself, thank you, and I wouldn't call you _entertaining_. I would call you fascinating."

That stopped her in her tracks, and she nearly choked on the mead she'd been drinking. Wiping away the wet on her lips and chin, she regarded him only momentarily.

"_Fascinating_? You certainly _have_ lost your senses, dwarf."

She narrowed her eyes.

"And didn't your king set down a rule against you and your lot fraternizing with me?"

He wagged a finger in her direction as he leaned around to pick up his mug; he knew that would be a part of the conversation, he just didn't think it would be brought up so soon.

"Thorin has loosened his decree. As long as we are all together, you are deemed _safe_ enough to be around."

"Safe. I must have a mighty reputation indeed for him to take such precautions."

Rhegda shifted a bit to look at him, her glass in her hand as she considered the young dwarf; he looked...pleased by the turn of conversation.

"That's why you're fascinating. To me, at least. And I'm convinced you are t'my brother, but he'll never admit it. Thinks he's fine not knowing more, but he's always terrible at hidin' something like that. When we were younger-"

"You do like to hear yourself speak, don't you?"

Her interruption broke him off mid-sentence, but that just made him smile and shake his head, more to himself than her. Kili opened his mouth to say something witty but she cut him off again.

"Don't worry. Syloris could natter away to no one but himself for hours."

A rumbling, cheerful laughter met her words, the dwarf obviously not unacquainted to her swordsman's unique ability to just converse with anything and _everything_. It was good to know that her men had so easily ensconced themselves within the dwarf company, that the two entirely different men had found friends in such an unlikely place.

"He's surely told us more than a few details. About the group, about the adventures. About _you_."

At that, she raised an eyebrow his way, a scoff sitting on her lips as she picked off another bit of meat from the pheasant.

"If he's told you all that, then there's no reason for you to be nettling me, now is there?"

To his credit, the dwarf didn't back down. Instead, he leaned in a bit further, that same confident, knowing smirk tugging his lips.

"Does this mean you find me an annoyance? Should I retire to my kin, and leave you with no company but your own?"

She was about to answer when she noticed something else in his eyes, something not made from the fire or confidence.

"You are drunk, Master Kili."

With that, the bowman sat back a bit, a frustrated sigh escaping him as he brushed back a bit of his hair. His eyes, however, never left her face.

"I _may_ have taken in my fair share of drink tonight, but I am in no manner drunk. I am simply...interested."

Her observation seemed to take a margin of wind out of him, and he drug his leg back over the bench, sitting hunched slightly over his plate. Rhegda felt as though she should answer something of his, but he had said he'd found her fascinating. _Fascinating_, as though she were a subject to be studied, or a puzzle to be solved. Either way, she wasn't so certain she wanted the young, eager dwarf to know anything more than he already knew - which wasn't much - and if she had her way, that's how it would stay.

However, a small part of her prodded her along to give hims a slight something for his efforts; of all the dwarves, he and his companion Balin had been the only pair to treat her with some degree of respect and civility, and of that pair, Kili was the one wanting to know her the most. That in mind, she dropped the pheasant leg and wiped clean her fingers as she cleared her throat.

"Alright. What is it you are so keen to know?"

His brown eyes darted back to her, and he turned his attention away from the food he'd been rolling about on his plate to Rhegda's unreadable expression. That smile of his hadn't really faded, not yet, but as he heard her words, it brightened. He shook his head suddenly, almost to himself, and his smile widened.

"Your braid. Why did you wear it like that?"

His words were softer than before, but no less interest was held in them. Rhegda couldn't help the curiosity that flashed over her features at his query; she knew he'd seen it as well, and she was quick to still her presence. Of all the things he could have asked, of all the many, _many_ facets about her, he chose that, a thing seemingly innocuous. Then again, it wasn't really. She had made a blatant statement with it, and he was wanting to know _why_.

He was too intelligent for his own good.

"It told you and your kin, from the moment I walked in, that I was not just a woman, that I was more than how I was perceived."

She paused for a moment, studying him, before she smirked back at him, the first real show of emotion she'd allowed.

"But you knew this already."

Kili shrugged through a light laugh, as though he'd been caught stealing a biscuit from her plate.

"I knew from the tales that you'd spent time in various dwarfish communities. Syloris told us you'd both enjoyed familiar company while there, and he seems like a cunning man. I couldn't imagine him not learning a few things."

His eyes roamed her face for a breath of time, and he flashed his grin at her, though it was gentler.

"Besides, it suits you. Strength looks good on you."

That finally roused a laugh from her, though she had to admit, it was one of the better lines she'd ever heard. Rhegda broke their held gazes first, the chuckle of merriment that she'd not known for some time no longer held back by clenched lips. She grinned, though immediately tried to tame the act, and reached for her glass, raising it to her lips once her calloused fingers curled around the container.

"Words like that, Master Kili, could be considered flattery. Are you trying to flatter me?"

When she turned back to look at him, the lightness to his smile had been replaced with something else, something that reminded her of an old man smiling at a child unknowing of its worth. It unsettled her for a moment, to think that young dwarf could understand anything about her, even the superficial braid. But it hadn't been superficial, had it? She and Syloris had made the decision to put her on display, and while she'd expected comment, she'd never thought a conversation like the current one would occur.

Abruptly, his ghostly smile was replaced by one much more to his nature, and he took up his own mug, raising it in her direction.

"Trust me, my Lady. When I flatter you, you will know."

He took a deep pull from his mead, and she couldn't hide the smirk that tugged her lips. He was indeed, slightly drunk, and flush from the favorable wins of the day, but she could tell his personality was that of a good dwarf, a good _man_ regardless of his race. His brother had a bit of that inside him as well; she'd seen the way they looked at one another, they way they interacted. She was willing to bet solid coin that they were normally quite inseparable, but that Kili's curiosity ran much deeper than his brother's ever would. The dark bowman was showing a bit more of himself than she would assume was normal, then again, he had been presented with something he was told to stay away from, to ignore while being fed wild tales about it; honestly, she may have been the same in his position.

Rhegda followed his move and drank as well, but before she could finish her first swallow, an elf appeared by her side; nothing new to her, yet it caused many at the table to quiet their conversation. Kili had dropped his mug back to the table, and was glancing between Rhegda and the familiar elf.

The woman looked up and beside her to see Lindir patiently waiting for her to finish. She did just that, and settled the glass near her mostly-consumed meal. He nodded once to her and spoke.

"Mithrandir has requested I find you. He would like you to join him in council."

With an agreeing gesture of her head, Rhegda swept both legs over the bench, standing without word to the brunet elf. Her eyes caught Syloris', and he sent her a look that spoke volumes. Before she turned to leave, the woman cast her gaze down to the dwarf next to her.

"Many thanks for the conversation, Master Kili."

His head jerked up to catch her raised eyebrow and soft smirk, finding them both odd on her, but still fitting. Perhaps he _had_ been a touch drunk, and perhaps he had stated a few things he oughtn't have, but she had opened to him enough for him to see the stories about the darkness in her race were exaggerated; she wasn't an evil woman. He sat with that idea on his mind as he watched both the elf and Rhegda leave the room, his brown eyes following them until he could no longer see their forms in the dim light.

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><p>Author's End Note: I hated writing this chapter. I may rewrite it sometime in the future. Any suggestions, please leave a PM or review.<p> 


	11. The Last Conversation and an Old Debt

Author's Note: It is almost 4.00 AM where I live and I have finally finished this chapter. So, if you find any mistakes, please let me know. Also, I hated - **hated** - writing this chapter more than the previous one, but now that it is finished, I can get down to the more exciting chapters. And I can't thank you all enough for reviewing/favouriting/following. It means a great deal to me. Thank you.

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><p><em>The Last Conversation and an Old Debt Paid<em>

_In which an Elf is shown to be kind and a council is crashed _

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><p>They walked along in companionable silence for some time, neither have anything to say to the other. Rhegda had come to like Lindir most out of the Elves she'd met; he was quiet, as per usual, but he had a side to him that, when shown, could make her worries relax, if even for a moment. That wasn't to say he threw out jokes, or told amusing stories. No, Lindir was calm and spoke the truth, no matter what the subject, and she'd spent more than one night conversing with him on a wide variety of subjects, all of which he was very knowledgeable, and never once had she felt as though he would judge her for her lack of education.<p>

He was elitist, of course, and it showed with the Dwarves, but that coolness slipped a bit when he spoke with her. In the beginning, she'd thought his attitude towards her was because she'd kept to herself and made little trouble for others. However, the longer she knew him, the more she'd came to see that he enjoyed their conversations, and all because he could _teach_. Lindir had been surrounded for so long by those who didn't need instruction on any subject, yet when she had arrived, she had given him a chance to share history, maths, geography, and even poetry. He had been patient, and she had been receptive, and in the end, his kindness – however buried – had been seen.

So it was no surprise to her that they had twisted comfortably through the city without a word between them, and to some that would have been a sign of trouble, or perhaps insecurity. For them, it was neither, and when he halted at the entrance to a large, circular room, she took a moment to end their silence with quiet Sindarin words.

"I feel I should thank you now, for what you have done. It is greatly unlikely that I should speak with you again."

He didn't smile to offer ease, nor did he reach out to comfort; he was not a blind man and he wasn't deaf. He knew what the wizard would be asking of her, and he knew from his Lord the result of such a quest was far likely from a favorable one. Her thanks reflected how she felt about the situation, and he didn't fault her in the least for it.

"As Lord Elrond says, it was all freely given to a friend."

He dipped his head slightly, a bit of a bow to show his polite retreat. She returned the gesture, and as he softly paced back the way they had come, she knew in that moment it was the final time she would see the stoic Elf.

With a deep sigh, she passed through the opening and came face to face with a varied group, none of which appeared fond of one another. The grey wizard was there, his voice raised as he fought with the Dwarf King, the latter of which seemed close to simply walking away. Balin, and the Hobbit too were standing just to the side, both eyeing the situation, but for very different reasons: Balin looked ready to cut in at any moment, while the Hobbit shuffled from foot to hairy foot in a way that made her think he was about to run.

Lord Elrond was present as well, though he appeared to have no real influence in the conversation, so he stood elegantly as always beside the Hobbit. His eyes were the first to find her as she entered, and they were harder than she'd seen them previously. Something was unsettlingly wrong, and even from her perch at the entrance, she could hear snippets of the conversation, and none of it assuaged her troubled thoughts.

"We have been over this, Thorin Oakenshield! We need her expertise for-"

"We _have_ discussed it but I don't recall my decision being called into question. _I_ am the one to decide what is best for this company, and I am saying again that she is not coming!"

"I suppose that settles it then."

All eyes jerked to Rhegda as she entered the conversation, and both Gandalf and the King looked as though they'd been caught in the middle of something incriminating. Balin was staring at her as if he wanted to warn her away, but didn't have the words, and the Hobbit immediately darted his gaze away when her own glanced over him.

Elrond, ever the wise one, encouraged her into the room and greeted her with the air that nothing offending had just occurred.

"Ah, Rhegda. We do apologize for pulling you from your meal, but there are a few matters to discuss."

She was well aware that "we" did not include the King, nor did it likely include Balin and the Hobbit, though the latter seemed more uncomfortable and worried than hostile. She made her way to the wizard's side, a respectful distance from him and dwarf that was sending her a look so pointed and chill she could feel the disdain and cold seeping out of him. He was angry, to put it mildly, and that anger seemed directed to only two people in the room; she didn't need to guess which two.

"My dear, we were just discussing your involvement in the quest I mentioned this afternoon."

Rhegda switched her sight to the wizard, and her features were hard, unreadable to all except the grey old man. He appeared exasperated and harried, which was a strange look for him, though appropriate, all things considered. There was an anxiety about him that did not set her mind at ease, and it gnawed at her that she was most likely the reason why.

"Yes, I caught part of that discussion. It seems as though the topic is closed for debate, as the King has so emphatically stated."

Thorin shouldered his way into the conversation then. "The woman is right. We are not taking her on this quest."

He motioned for his companions to follow him, but was cut short when Gandalf suddenly lost his temper, words resounding with an echo of power that was belied by the wizard's gentle nature.

"This quest will _fail_, Thorin if you do not include her! You are too stubborn to look past your prejudice and pride and that will spell the end for your company! There is help beyond your kin if you will only accept it!"

He abruptly calmed, a sigh escaping him as he regarded the King, and his stunned expression. The wizard shook his head and clasped his hands behind him, a motion she had come to associate with him contemplating his next move. Rhegda stole a glance to the three other occupants of the room, and took stock of their responses as well; Elrond had his lips pressed into a thin line, obviously not pleased with the turn of events, and Balin was fiddling his hands in front of him, a nervous look on his face that she didn't fault him for having. The Hobbit, however, seemed quite astounded at the outburst and had taken a subtle step away from the arguing pair.

"I have offered you council on this quest since the beginning, and you have trusted me in that appointment, just as your father trusted me with his secrets. I pray you continue that trust, Thorin."

The dwarf said nothing for some time, and Rhegda could see the shifting of thoughts in his mind. He was weighing her, weighing the wizard's words, and when his blue eyes narrowed, she knew he had come to a decision, a final one.

"It is true, you have presented guidance, without which we would be in a much poorer condition." He seemed almost hesitant to offer his next words. "If you say she will be an asset to this quest, and you vouch for her trustworthiness, then yes, I will trust you."

The wizard's shoulders looked as though they had been relieved of a great weight, and he smiled gently at the proud dwarf. His mouthed was opening to say more when Rhegda broke into the moment.

"What neither of you has deigned to ask is whether or not _she_ will be joining you. I have no knowledge of where this quest is heading, and only a little understanding of those in the Company. I will not be party to a mission I know nothing of."

Her eyes flicked between Gandalf and Thorin, wondering which would be the one to answer. Surprisingly enough, it was the King, as he let go a long, resolved sigh and raised his eyes to hers.

"We travel to Erebor." At that, Balin hissed Thorin's name, but the King held up a hand to quieten him. "We will reclaim what belongs to the line of Durin, and give our people a home." His eyes grew hard, and she knew he was daring her to judge him. "_That_ is our quest."

There was a moment of silence as Rhegda processed what he'd said. _Erebor_. They were hoping to cross inhospitable territory for weeks and then, with only thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit, pull out a cancer under the mountain, a cancer that had ravaged anything it touched with a fire so unforgiving it had burnt away kingdoms. But there was something in the King's words that made her hesitant, as though there was more to what he wanted, but he was refusing to let on just what that was.

She glanced over to the wizard, and he nodded to her once, affirming the dwarf's words. What they wanted to do was pure lunacy, and she would take no part of it. Slowly, her head shook side to side, one hand reaching up to rub over her forehead, responding with a disbelieving huff.

"Erebor. You wish to take back _Erebor."_ Her hand dropped, and she looked back to the dwarf. "There are a myriad of complications with that, and I am confident I don't need to remind you what lies in those halls. And yet you plan to take it with a handful of your kin, many of which seem less than martially inclined."

At that point, the wizard stepped in, calling her attention with a cleared throat.

"It can be done, Rhegda. Thorin's Company are precisely what's needed, even for their faults. I'm certain you know of the benefits of small numbers in tricky situations."

His very pointed look made her frown; he was inching quite close to calling her on something she was praying to all Valar above he wouldn't. Her mind worked quickly, attempting to find cause for her to reject the offer, and it wasn't but a moment before it landed on a very valid point.

"But Erebor is sealed. There is no reclaiming it if you cannot get in."

At that, Gandalf turned his attention to Thorin, who looked uncomfortable by statement, and seemed to be debating whether or not to tell her something. He returned the look of the wizard, his expression warning the old man that the dwarf was about to take a step on trust, and it would be the last if the situation didn't resolve well.

"There is another way. A hidden door."

"Thorin!"

Balin's voice knifed through his King's words, drawing all attention to the elder dwarf. He strode to his leader and took on an imploring tone.

"Nothing more. She can travel without knowledge of that. Already too many know of it."

His eyes cut briefly to Elrond, who returned the quick stare with an unreadable face. Rhegda wished she didn't find this moment so telling of the divides between races, but she couldn't help herself. And the sudden aversion to her shown by Balin was interesting, but not particularly hurtful. He had been sociable and amiable earlier in the day, but now faced with exposing secrets of his kin, he was past being cordial. She couldn't accuse him of anything other than being protective, which is why it surprised her slightly to see his King shake his head and look on him with a resigned gaze.

"If she is to guide, then she must know."

Thorin looked back to the woman with a steady, judging gaze that brought a small frown to her lips. He was going to say something else she didn't want to hear, didn't want to know, but now she was in for a penny, so she might as well be in for a pound.

"The door can only be opened on a certain day, with a single key. We have the latter, while the former was only recently discovered." His blue eyes flit to Elrond before he continued addressing her. "Durin's day. We have until then to reach Erebor. Do you think it possible for you to bring us that far in such a time?"

He was baiting her now, and she knew it. Rhegda took a quick moment to do a bit of figuring in her head, and the answer she came to did not sit well with her. If they departed the following day, she estimated they might make it to the mountain with a few days to spare, but that only assumed nothing would cross their path that they would be stymied by; she knew that to be entirely false hope.

Drawing in a deep breath, she matched the King's stare with one of her own.

"One hundred and twenty two days, starting from today. A little under five hundred fifty miles separates this place from your home, and you want to transverse it in that amount of time." She paused, one hand brushing back a stray bit of inky black hair from her face. "It will be simple enough, should there be no hindrances, nothing dangerous enough to set back the quest."

Now it was her turn to bait. Surely, the dwarf would know of the mountains, of the orcs and wargs, of the goblins, and of _Mirkwood_. It was the single greatest threat to the quest, and if she had her way, they would march around it. But no, they needed to meet their mountain before Durin's Day, which locked in a time-frame she couldn't escape from.

"So you agree, that this can be accomplished. With your aid, of course."

His words brought a halt to her musings, and she gave Thorin a dry smile. "With my aid, more of you are likely to survive the trek, yes." Rhegda's eyes hardened, and she slid her hands behind her, hooking her thumbs into her belt. "But some will survive because they are not to accompany us."

That seemed to be rather ill news to both Thorin and Balin, the latter of which immediately spoke up in his leader's stead.

"No, lassie, we are all committed, every one, to this quest, and we will see it through to the end. Not a single one of us would stand to be left behind now, and rightly so. This is our right, and no one else can claim that."

Thorin appeared pleased at this retort, so he offered nothing more. Balin was looking at her as if he'd won her over, but that look withered when she brought out a glancing stare of her own.

"There are some in your ranks that do not belong on such a quest; they are young, and foolish, and martially inefficient." She held up a hand to halt their protests. "The bookish one, Ori. He should be cut from your Company before we depart. He will do nothing but cause issues in battle and keep a distraction with those books of his. His brothers, too, will spend more time attempting to shield him from harm that looking towards themselves. This is a very dangerous thing."

Balin sputtered a bit, but it was Thorin who stepped back into the conversation with a scowl.

"What can you know from seeing so little in so few days? I have known these dwarves for many years; I think it _my_ prerogative to choose who stays."

Rhegda again shook her head.

"And that is what blinds you. Those two brothers, Fili and Kili; they should be cut as well. Kili has no room to be here, as he is still too young and impulsive, and Fili will stay out of love for his brother regardless. And separating them would be chancy, as they both would find ways to reunite."

Her eyes suddenly dart to the opening of the room, and they took in the sight of a dark haired dwarf not bothering to hide as he eavesdropped on the conversation; it seemed he'd heard everything she'd said, and for that she was grateful. Perhaps it would spur him into sulking and staying, though she was certain it would make him want inclusion on the mission all the more. Catching his eye – and noting how his fists clenched and unclenched at his side – she spoke over the King's head.

"Kili is too young, barely a Dwarf in most regards. He will be a hindrance later in the quest, as will Ori. Drop all three of them now, and save us the trouble of defending someone who should have been left behind. Give them time to put away childish fantasies about the world, and then send for them after the quest...succeeds."

As this, both Balin and Thorin jumped to defend the boys, citing their abilities and heart and a great many other things that should prove their worth to the Company. All Rhegda heard was the bond between family and fast friends, and it brought at least some light to the Company itself; they were not just a band of mix-matched Dwarves from the Blue Mountains. They were family, and family would be more focused on the aid of one another than of a single man; that, of course, would make her job somewhat manageable.

It was then that she heard the word "nephews" join the conversation, and it snapped her back to the situation at hand. Instantly, Balin paled, and Thorin wore a grimace plastered over his rugged features. Rhegda danced her sight between the two, and it didn't require a great deal of thought to imagine who the grey-beared dwarf had been speaking of.

"Ah. Those cheeky brothers are related to royalty. Nephews." She touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. "Hmm. I suppose it makes a certain amount of sense, knowing how little use they could be in a true battle."

"And have _you_ ever seen what _true battle_ is like?"

That bit of snark came from the fearless leader, which prompted her to drift her gaze to him, the flatness in her stare enough to cause him to blink in response.

"Have I seen thousands on a field of blood? No, Master Dwarf, I have not. But the things I _have_ seen are not to be repeated here, under the eaves of such a tranquil place. They are darker things, meant the whispered in the night, and I would not have them told here."

Her hand drifts over her middle unconsciously, brushing over her jerkin as though remembering some long lost act. Rhegda's eyes however, look back to the entrance, and find the dwarf bowman having fled after her comment to his King. Perhaps it was better for him to understand his role in the scheme of the Company; he was young, he was impetuous, and he believed there was good in everyone.

Perhaps he knew better now.

It was in that slightly stunned lull that Gandalf made his presence known again, clearing his throat and huffing a bit before he jumped in to the silence.

"I do not believe the Company will change, my dear, nor should it. It has been brought together for a reason, as have you. The Company needs your guidance, and Thorin has already accepted your place amongst them. Will you not concede?"

He was treading thin ice, and they both knew it. Taking in each of those present, Rhegda could only shook her head and make a wide gesture with her arms that clearly indicated her feelings on the matter.

"This is the sort of brain sickness I've seen in merchants and dying men alike. I cannot, in good faith, promise to take on such a quest knowing the odds are most certainly _not_ in its favour." She looked to the wizard. "No."

All in the room – aside from the still stoic Elf Lord – held their collective breaths as Gandalf clasped his hands before him and fixed the woman with a look so full of mixed emotion it was a wonder she knew what he was thinking.

"I implore you, Rhegda. Consider this the last payment."

For the heartbeat of a moment, Rhegda looked as though she was going to lash out at the wizard, to shout and hit, but that moment passed, and she was left looking hard and flat, as though he'd hit upon something better left buried. Her eyes never left his, though she addressed the King.

"When you are prepared to depart, send word. I will accompany you."

Abruptly, she turned on her heel and strode out, not leaving a single word for any remaining in the room. Her thoughts and emotions were at war, eating her up and leaving no room for rationality. A small part of her felt guilt at what she had done to the youngest Durin heir, but it couldn't have been helped; her assessment was true to form, and though no one else in that room had agreed, she had a feeling those three's presence in the group would provide distraction none would need.

So why did it gnaw on her so, the way _he'd_ looked at her? The way his eyes said _betrayer_, the way his body said _anger_. She'd seen them before, but why now did it effect her so?


	12. The Stolen Words and the Night

Author's Note: This is a short look at Kili's reaction to Rhegda's words. The next chapter should be up by Monday.

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><p><em>The Stolen Words and the Night<em>

_In which a Dwarf overhears what he shouldn't and assumptions are made_

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><p>The night was too calm, too peaceful for what he was feeling. Anger, hot and scalding and fierce, burned through him as he rushed through the passages and halls of the city. He'd followed, knowing the instant he did that it had been a poor decision to do so. He still had a question he wanted answering, and some part of him felt that if it wasn't answered soon, it might never be resolved. So he had followed. And then he had <em>listened<em>.

Rhegda had been espousing the idea that some should be left behind, that some should be culled for the safety of the group; her sole focus appeared to be him, and from the look on her face as she eyed him during her speech, she _wanted_ him to know. _That woman_ had at one time spoken openhearted to him, she had been _kind_, and yet she called him useless and young.

A child.

_Barely a Dwarf_.

His heart was both heavy and aflame; he wanted to scream til his throat was stripped raw from the act. He wanted to rip into something soft until there was nothing left to identify it. For how long had been judged on his appearance, on his age? How long had he fought to be accepted, not just in his society but for this very quest? _How long had he played in the shadow of his better brother, a perfect Dwarf?_ That thought stopped him cold. He would never, under any circumstance, allow his brother to know such a thing had ever crossed his mind; there was too much love, and respect there for him to ever cause hurt to his kin, and he knew admission of that thought would do just that.

Fili had protected him, guided him, loved him for as long as he could remember, and the dark Dwarf would die before he brought pain to his brother. But isn't that what the woman had been counting on? Cutting him free from the group, and have his brother remain with him? She would tear away the older's chance at seeing their home simply to keep the younger out of the way? Was she truly willing to split up their kin because she saw it fit?

Something akin to a growl issued from his chest, and his eyes closed while he slumped against a pillar overlooking one of the falls. That woman had played close to him and he'd assumed it was because she wasn't the creature they'd all said she was capable of being. She had been charitable to Balin before, a gracious leader, but now he saw that for what it was: a front. He hadn't snooped through the entire conversation, but what he'd heard was enough to put him into an internal rage.

It had pained him to hear what she thought of him, but even moreso Ori, and his brother. They were committed to the quest just as much as he, and they were prepared to perform any task required to bring them all home again. But she hadn't looked to that as a positive trait; she'd called them all too young and useless, even so far as saying the rest of the Company would focus more on the safety of those few than the completion of the quest. They were all family, in some fashion, so why wouldn't they have kept close eye on one another? It baffled him and angered him and he wanted to just...come apart.

His mind eased after some time, placating him as he breathed in the misty air. Thorin had fought back, challenged her and won, but she had exposed herself for what she was. Rhegda wasn't going to lead the Company to their goal because it was their rightful place, but because something else was forcing her to. She didn't _want_ guide them. She didn't _want_ the Company whole when they left. She didn't _want_ to heed their King.

As far as he was concerned, she was now dead weight.

His eyes drifted slowly open, and he took in the valley as it lay awash in silver light. Kili felt as though it had been years since his last glimpsed such a sight, when in truth it had been only a night. _She_ had been there, with half smiles and a welcoming presence, and they had talked; he'd expressed something he'd told only his blood brother, and she'd responded with a gift of a beautiful tale. But he should have guessed, should have known where her heart truly lied when she mentioned offhandedly the killing – _murder_ – of one of her men.

Rhegda was a dark thing without honor, a thing he would pare from his presence as much as he conceivably could. He _had_ been a child to think she would be dissimilar to other Men, and though her skin was dusky and her eyes all but black, she _was_ still of Men, and Men were likely to betray and deceive on a whim; he'd seen as much in the Blue Mountains, and it seemed that trait held true with all of their kin.

He rightened himself off the pillar, standing tall and quiet as his thoughts calmed and his anger tamped to a dangerous simmer, before making his way back to the others. By the time of his arrival, he would have his dashing face plastered firmly on, and none would ever know what _that woman_ had said of his family.

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><p>Author's End Note: Keep in mind that Kili has fought his entire life to be accepted, and his brother seems to do it with ease. (From how I read their personalities). So for him to hear Rhegda speak of him in that manner, <em>to Thorin<em>, it would bring down a lot of anger. Also, shout out to **BlueRiverSteel** for being so awesome.


	13. The Blade and the Field

Author's Note: So sorry I have been away for this long! Hopefully this bridge chapter will get things rolling again.

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><p><em>The Blade and the Field:<em>

_In Which Steel is Tested and a Decision is Made_

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><p>Of all the intolerable creatures in Arda to be saddled with, she was roped together with a tricksy old wizard and a insufferable Dwarf King, never mind the dozen other members of his Company that were as distant and cold as their leader. She'd traveled many a road, quite often alone, and she knew the paths to be taken for their quest; too often they would be near orc, and too often they would skirt the goblin lands. It was foolish as well to think their quest would end in happiness. A dragon slumbered in their golden halls, one they were determined to remove, and though she'd stared into hopeless situations, none she could remember equaled what they faced.<p>

Rhegda thought's bent then on the young Dwarf, and the harshness of her words about him. _To_ him, in reality, as she wanted him to understand where he rested in the scope of their quest. She would protest she wasn't wrong in her assessment: he would be a distraction to those there, a member needing watch when in slippery situations. And she knew now he was nephew to the King, and his brother by default was the Crown Prince; though third in line, it was hardly fitting for a Prince to be wandering the wilds on a quest that could cost him his life. True, too, his brother shouldn't be within miles of the Company, as the loss of his life would shunt his responsibilities to the younger. Seeing how both were determined to continue on the quest, she could only imagine the problems that would arise; the eldest, Fili, would place his brother – and most likely the King – ahead of any other that required assistance, even to the point of his life.

It was a mess, and she was firmly implanted in it.

Her musings brought her around the city at large, her mind locked in a struggle with what she _should_ do and what she _wanted_ to do; it wasn't until she was entering the sweeping expanse of the sparring field that she realized how far her thoughts had spiraled. The moon spilled silver light over the high, white walls, enchanting them to glow softly in the night, which in turn illuminated the field with glinting, clean luminescence. Rhegda couldn't bring herself to break into such a sight, but her feet moved without her consent, drawing her closer to the grand walls. Her fingers brushed over the worked and natural stone, caressing the pale surface with scarred skin as her feet continued to carry her onward, her mind still waging a war that, in the moment, was regulated to the far corners of her thoughts.

Eventually, her stroll brought her to the long rows of weapons propped against the stone, each rack delicate in pattern but strong in make. The harried woman drifted past them in an easy manner, taking in all offered; she wasn't surprised to see swords, knives, and pole arms of varying Elvish design, but the presence of a smaller, sweepingly curved sword blade halted her abruptly. She hadn't seen such a thing in so very many years, and its inclusion in the collection brought back the suspicion of an entirely pre-conceived meeting by the wizard.

Regardless, she was helpless to arrest her hand as it stretched out towards the elegant weapon, the tips of her fingers ghosting over the blade before she snapped them back as if she'd been burned. It wasn't her anymore; she wasn't the girl who would use that sword, but it called softly to her, memories gliding over the internal battle she'd been waging since she'd first arrived. Again, her hand reached out, but unlike before, it gently, ever so softly took hold of the sword's grip. Rhegda hesitated, uncertainty written over her features before her black eyes suddenly grew hard and cold, and she rapidly drew it from the rack.

The weight was familiar.

The balance was nearly as she remembered it.

It had been more years than she could remember that she'd gripped a sword resembling the one she held, and the feel of it threatened to unlock a precious seal she'd locked away a lifetime before. Rhegda backed from the rack, still clutching the odd sword and found herself stripping from her coat, the chill of damp air reminding her for a moment that she was in a place of peace, a place of calm.

Her mind was too distracted to remember it for long.

However, her hand swept up the sword in a smooth motion, cutting through the air in a graceful arc. There was a halt to her actions after, as though she debated her choice in this time of quiet, but that stutter in her movements was eaten up by another cut, and then another. Her body carried her into a simple stance, feet finding purchase in a gliding, clear act. And then another. And another. Soon, her sweeping, almost elegant cuts nearly blurred the odd sword.

It was not a dance, for a dance was designed for beauty, and in her motions there was only brutal efficiency.

Abruptly, there was a ringing of steel, and another blade caught her own in its flurry. Her dark eyes met those green of her swordsman, and without a word, she batted his longsword away. Syloris recovered, crept backwards to counter her forward press, keeping on his toes as his employer, his friend mounted an attack that he was certain didn't account for any mistakes. This wasn't simply the woman he travelled with for so long. Instead, it was a deadly woman with a deep pain, a secret held for so long, and if this one gift of his could help ease that pain, then he would stand his ground and fight back for her.

Which he did.

It didn't take long at all for both combatants to be coated in sweat, their bodies growing hot even in the cool Imladris air. But there wasn't any sign of flagging or fatigue, which one would assume after such a heated exchange, and not just once did an attack or feint slip through both guards, and blood - however little - was drawn. They appeared evenly matched until Rhegda made a move that she caught in mid air, one that seemed more intense and savage than before. She halted it for only a moment, but it was enough for Syloris' sword to come sweeping into her guard, and tangle with her shorter blade.

With a sharp clatter and clang of steel, Rhegda's sword was sent tumbling away into the night.

In that second, her eyes cleared, and suddenly his friend had returned. Syloris held his stance for a heartbeat longer, just long enough for his point to be made before he took a step back. He put a bit of distance between them, and sheathed his longsword. No words passed between the two, because what was there to say? He knew he could not ask her where her mind had been , nor could he pry into why she had chosen such a weapon to begin with. He had ideas, but none of them he was willing to broach at that particular moment.

For her part, Rhegda took in her partner's heavy, controlled breathing, and his sweat-slicked hair. He had come to her again when she hadn't realized she's needed him, yet she felt an anger towards him she couldn't place. Perhaps it was his intrusion into her moment of weakness, her moment of reflection. Perhaps it was because he simply arrived at a time she had wanted to be alone. Regardless of the reason, she could only bring herself to stare, before turning abruptly to retrieve her fallen sword.

Once in hand, she returned it to its proper place on the rack, and retreated back to her room. There was little left for them to say to one another.

It had all been left on that dark, beautiful field.

She had found her answer, and her purpose.


End file.
